Behind 

the 
Screen 


301D 


Behind  the  Screen 


HfrtV,  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELE9 


Hero  —  Robert  Lansing      (; 
The  Girl  —  Mary  Brewster 
The  Villain  -  -  -Jim  Hazzard 

with  an 
Exceptionally  Strong  Company 


/y 

WILLIAM  ALNION  WOLFF 


Illustrations  by 
J.ARTING 


CHICAGO 

A.    C.    MCCLURG   &   CO. 
1916 


Copyright 

A.  C.  McClurg&Co. 
1916 


Published  April,  1916 


F.  MAU.  PRINTIN8  COMPANY,  CHIOA80 


CHAPTER  I 


ENSING  got  out  into  the  avenue  just  as  the 
newsboys  began  calling  his  own  name.  One 
of  the  boys  pushed  up  at  him  a  paper,  damp  and 
sticky  still  with  the  thick  ink  that  went  into  its 
glaring  headlines,  and  he  bought  it  instinctively. 
Other  people,  all  around  him,  were  buying  papers, 
too,  and  he  caught  himself,  in  a  moment,  turning, 
with  them,  to  look  at  the  big  bulk  of  the  great 
store  he  had  just  left.  He  felt,  somehow,  that 
same  half-detached,  half-personal  interest  in  the 
passing  of  an  institution  that  moved  the  curious 
glances  of  these  passers-by. 

And  then  a  futile  wave  of  anger  overcame  him, 
shaking  him,  leaving  him  white  and  sick.  He 
hurried  on,  lest  some  of  these  people  who  were 
looking  up  from  their  papers  at  the  big  building 
should  recognize  him,  and  scornfully  point  him 


2133849 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


out  one  to  the  other.  He  could  hear,  voiced  by 
the  demon  of  self-consciousness  that  was  taking 
possession  of  him,  even  what  they  would  say : 

"  There  —  see  him?  That's  young  Lansing !  " 
That  was  what  he  imagined  them  to  be  saying. 
"  Old  man  Lansing's  son,  you  know.  Say  —  if 
I'd  had  the  chance  his  old  man  gave  him  —  and 
he's  let  the  whole  thing  go  to  pot !  Receivers  for 
Lansing's!  What  do  you  know  about  that?  " 

That  slang  phrase  that  came  so  pat  to  his  mind 
summed  the  whole  business  up  so  brutally,  so 
aptly.  What  did  he  know  about  it?  Why,  noth- 
ing at  all.  That  was  just  the  trouble.  The  big 
store,  and  his  interest  in  it,  had  just  been  an  in- 
stitution to  him,  as  it  had  been  to  the  whole  city. 
He  hadn't  had  anything  to  do  with  its  success ; 
that  had  been  made,  laboriously,  before  he  was 
born,  or  while  he  was  growing  up,  a  rich  man's 
son.  He  hadn't  had  anything  to  do  with  its  fail- 
ure, either.  That  it  was,  really,  that  rankled. 
That  was  the  thing  that  filled  him  with  the  great- 
est bitterness. 

And  it  was  a  bitterness  fairly  easy  to  under- 
stand, too,  when  you  had  the  facts,  as  he  had 
them.  It  wasn't  he,  Robert  Lansing,  who  had 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


failed.  Failure,  in,  itself,  if  a  man  has  the  right 
sort  of  stuff  in  him,  can  be  as  stimulating,  as  tonic, 
as  valuable  as  success.  But  not  the  sort  of  failure 
that  had  come  to  Lansing's  —  and  to  Robert 
Lansing.  To  him,  this  failure  brought  the  same 
sensation  a  man  must  feel  when  a  bridge  collapses 
under  him  —  with  the  difference  that  Lansing 
knew  he  should  have  looked  to  his  own  supports. 
He  couldn't  get  away  from  that.  He  had  shirked, 
evaded,  deliberately,  the  responsibilities  that  had 
come  to  him.  If  he  had  not  shirked,  if  he  had 
played  an  active  part  in  Lansing's,  the  failure 
would  probably  have  been  just  as  inevitable,  he 
knew.  He  couldn't  console  himself  with  the 
thought  that  others  had  shirked,  too;  that  they 
had  made  mistakes.  Perhaps  they  had,  but  it 
wasn't  for  him  to  justify  himself  in  any  such 
fashion  as  that. 

He  had  known  What  was  coming  for  days,  of 
course.  With  the  approach  of  the  crisis  that  had 
finally  resulted  in  the  bankruptcy  of  the  big  store, 
the  active  heads  of  the  business  had  taken  him 
into  their  confidence.  They  had  had  to,  for  one 
thing;  they  needed  the  money  that  he  had  still 
been  able  to  help  them  to  raise.  When  it  was  too 

[3] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


late,  he  had  flung  himself,  rather  savagely,  into 
the  task  of  getting  a  full  understanding  of  what 
was  and  had  been  going  on.  His  head  swam  with 
the  explanations  that  had  been  offered.  He  knew 
all  about  the  uptown  movement  of  the  retail  trade ; 
the  tremendous  increased  expenses,  due  to  higher 
rents  —  to  this  cause  and  that. 

But  he  knew  other  things,  too.     He  knew  that 
he  had  been  willing,  indeed  eager,  to  fall  in 
with  the  suggestions  that  had  been  made  to  him 
after  his  father's  death.    He  had  been  de- 
lighted to  incorporate  Lansing's,  to  be- 
come a  dummy  —  despite  his  stock  inter- 
est in  the  company  —  to  let  a  corporation 
try  to  step  into  his  father's  shoes. 
He  had  justified  himself  by  the 
knowledge  that  he  couldn't  fill 
them  himself,  and  he  had 
no  reason  now  to  think 
that  he  had  been  wrong 
as    to    that.      But  —  he 
knew  that   he   ought   to 
have  tried. 

His     fa-  — ** 
ther,     build- 

[4] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


ing  up  Lansing's  from  a  mite  of  a  retail  business 
to  the  great  estate  of  its  palmy  days,  had  faced 
worse  crises  than  this  one  that  had  ended  in  the 
bankruptcy  court.  He  hadn't  had  anything  to 
start  with;  much  less  the  great  business  that  had 
come  to  his  son.  His  name  was  still  one  of  the 
great  ones  of  American  mercantile  history.  He 
had  been  one  of  those  pioneers,  one  of  those  cap- 
tains of  industry  about  whom  that  history  was 
written,  who  had  helped  to  prove  that  America 
was  the  land  of  opportunity.  He  had  taken  his 
place  in  the  company  of  men  like  Carnegie,  Rocke- 
feller, Mackay,  Armour,  and  scores  of  others  like 
them,  who,  in  greater  or  lesser  degree,  had  taken 
toll  of  the  country's  needs. 

It  was  of  such  men  as  Robert  Lansing's  father 
that  Kipling  wrote : 

He  turns  a  keen  untroubled  face 
Home,  to  the  instant  need  of  things. 

He  greets  th'  embarrassed  Gods,  nor  fears 
To  shake  the  iron  hand  of  fate 
Or  match  with  Destiny  for  beers. 

But  no  poet  was  ever  going  to  be  inspired  to 
write  thus  of  the  man  Robert  Lansing  had  been, 
and  he  knew  it.  It  had  taken  this  catastrophe  to 

[5] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


drive  the  truth  home,  though  he  had  been  sensing 
it  vaguely  for  a  long  time,  with  a  growing  rest- 
lessness and  dissatisfaction  with  the  manner  of 
his  life.  Now  this  half-formulated  complaint  he 
had  been  making  against  himself  was  brought  sud- 
denly, by  the  force  of  outward  circumstances,  into 
a  sharp,  clear  focus.  He  could  express  his  feeling 
now,  if  he  couldn't  see  a  remedy,  nor,  even,  exactly 
what  had  been  responsible.  And  he  guessed  that 
he  couldn't  have  gone  on  much  longer  in  the  old 
way,  even  if  Lansing's  had  not  gone  under. 

He  quickened  his  step,  to  keep  pace,  in  some 
measure,  with  the  turmoil  in  his  brain.  There 
was  no  special  need  for  haste.  The  failure  of 
Lansing's,  of  course,  was  going  to  represent  the 
dropping  of  a  pretty  big  pebble  into  the  placid 
pool  of  his  life,  and  the  ripples  were  going  to  have 
their  effect.  But  not  just  yet.  This  was  none  of 
your  melodramatic  failures,  that  transform  a  man 
from  millions  and  their  surroundings  in  the  first 
act  to  a  Bowery  lodging  house  in  the  second.  He 
would  have  some  money  left;  quite  a  good  deal, 
indeed,  according  to  ordinary  standards.  And  he 
hadn't  come  yet  to  the  point  of  planning  changes 
in  the  routine  of  his  life.  That  is  one  of  the  last 
[6] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


things  people  do,  anyway,  after  such  an  experi- 
ence. 

And  so  Lansing's  mind  wandered  off  at  a  tan- 
gent, for  a  moment,  from  the  big  fact  of  the  fail- 
ure, and  He  thought  of  his  engagements  for  the 
next  few  days.  Some  of  them  he  would  probably 
have  to  break,  he  thought,  and  he  frowned  as  he 
tried  to  plan  out  his  time.  Then  the  futility  of 
this  overcame  him,  and  he  laughed  in  the  face  of 
an  imposing  lady  shopper  who  was  bearing  down 
upon  him.  He  heard  her  muttering  as  he  passed; 
she  thought,  perhaps,  that  he  was  trying  to  flirt 
with  her. 

He  was  still  in.  Sixth  Avenue,  and  he  glanced 
up  at  the  street  signs  to  see  if  he  had  reached  the 
point  at  which  he  wanted  to  turn  east  to  reach  his 
rooms.  He  hadn't,  and  kept  on,  to  be  caught  in 
a  sudden  outpouring  from  the  doors  of  a  five-cent 
theater,  colorful,  in  its  garish  way,  with  the  bright 
posters  that  bore  witness  to  the  delights  to  be 
flashed  on  the  screen  within.  He  caught  himself 
wondering  how,  in  such  a  neighborhood,  such  a 
place  could  attract  so  many  people  of  leisure ;  and, 
because  he  couldn't  move  quickly,  he  took  note  of 
the  people  who  were  coming  out. 

[7] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


It  was  nearly  five  o'clock,  and  that  added  to  his 
wonder,  since  working  hours  weren't  over.  He 
saw  women,  women  of  all  sorts;  women  with 
their  arms  full  of  bundles,  in  their  eyes  a  remote, 
happy  look,  a  little  fixed  —  joint  product  of  the 
romance  of  the  films  and  the  eye  strain  of  steady 
watching  —  well-dressed  women  and  slatternly, 
slovenly  women,  many  of  them  pulling  excited 
children  along.  But  they  were  shoppers,  in  the 
main,  and  they  were  hurrying  now,  with  their 
bundles,  toward  elevated  and  tubes,  to  rush  home 
and  fulfill  their  task  of  cooking  dinner  for  the 
breadwinners.  But  though  Lansing  saw  these 
things,  they  meant  nothing  to  him  yet.  He  saw 
them  without  understanding,  obsessed  only  with 
the  idea  of  getting  through  the  press  of  people 
that  had  suddenly  barred  his  swift  progress. 

That  was  soon  done.  The  women  scattered  to 
their  cars,  and  he  forgot  his  glimpse  of  something 
that  was  new  enough,  full  enough  of  meaning,  to 
interest  him,  had  he  been  able  to  read  that  mean- 
ing, to  translate  it  into  terms  of  opportunity.  He 
went  on  for  two  more  blocks,  turned  east,  and  in 
five  minutes  reached  his  rooms.  From  the  depths 
of  his  easiest  chair  a  cheerful  voice  greeted  him. 
[8] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Hello  Bob,  lucky  you  came!  "  it  said.  "  I 
couldn't  have  waited  much  longer,  you  know.  Had 
to  send  your  man  out  for  more  cigarettes  as  it 
was." 

"What's  up,  Sandy?"  asked  Lansing  resign- 
edly. In  his  mood,  Alexander  Brangwyn,  who 
couldn't  begin  to  live  up  to  that  sonorous  name, 
was  not  welcome.  But  the  effort  that  would  be 
required  to  make  Sandy  understand  that,  without 
a  resort  to  downright  brutality,  was  beyond  him. 
It  was  easier  to  yield. 

"  Job  for  you,"  said  Sandy  brightly.  "  Crowd 
getting  up  a  show  for  some  bloomin'  charity. 
Theatricals,  you  know  —  play  by  some  blighter 
called  Pinero,  or  some  such  name.  Got  a  fellow 
I  heard  of  to  show  'em  how.  An'  he's  simply 
im-poss-ible ! 

"  Told  Mrs.  Tommy  French  she  didn't  know 
how  to  behave  in  a  drawin'-room !  Quite  right,  of 
course  —  she  doesn't.  But  she  wouldn't  stand  it 
—  from  him.  He  chucked  it  —  an'  they  were  in 
a  fine  hole  till  I  thought  of  you.  So  I  promised  to 
get  you  to  —  stage  it,  they  call  it,  don't  they? 
They'll  take  things  from  you  they  wouldn't  hear 
of  from  some  beastly  professional.  What?  " 
[9] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Can't  do  it,"  said  Lansing  shortly.  "  I'm 
sorry,  Sandy  —  but  it's  out  of  the  question." 

"  Eh?  "  said  Sandy,  staring.  "  But,  I  say,  old 
chap  —  I  promised,  you  know." 

"  Look  at  that  1  "  said  Lansing.  He  tossed  over 
the  paper  he  had  carried  home. 

"Evening  paper?  What?"  said  Sandy,  with 
the  air  of  one  announcing  an  important  discovery. 
"  Never  read  'em.  What's  the  idea,  Bob?  " 

Lansing  controlled  himself,  and  explained. 

"  Too  beastly  bad,  old  chap,"  said  Sandy,  after 
taking  it  in.  "  But  it  just  shows  they  have  the 
right  idea  in  England,  you  know.  Over  there  this 
couldn't  have  happened.  Why?  Don't  you  see, 
you  wouldn't  have  been  in  trade.  It  isn't  done. 
Here  —  the  very  best  people  do  it  —  and  you 
see  what  happens." 

He  pondered  over  the  disaster  while  Lansing 
became  his  debtor  to  the  important  extent  of  one 
sense  of  humor,  hitherto  badly  frayed  and  un- 
accountably missing. 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  he  said,  brightening  again, 
"  I'll  lend  you  some  money;  then  you  can  show 
them  how  to  act  their  silly  play." 

But  Lansing  shook  his  head. 
[10] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  No,  thanks,"  he  said.  "  It  isn't  as  bad  as 
that.  Only,  I've  got  to  quit  playing  for  a  while, 
Sandy,  and  get  my  bearings.  And  I'm  going  to 
cut  loose  entirely  —  have  a  new  deal." 

There  was  a  finality  in  his  tone  that  silenced 
even  Sandy.  No  one,  and  least  of  all  Sandy  him- 
self, would  have  guessed  that  this  decision  was  less 
than  a  minute  old. 

"  I've  got  to  do  that,"  Lansing  broke  out  sud- 
denly. "Sandy  —  can't  you  see  what  an  awful 
ass  I've  been?  What  the  devil  do  I  amount  to? 
I  can  draw  well  enough  to  have  women  ask  me  to 
do  place  cards  for  their  dinners  —  but  I  couldn't 
get  a  job  doing  picture  postals  for  money.  I 
could  help  out  your  charity  theatricals  —  but  a 
manager  would  kick  me  out  of  his  theater  after 
I'd  tried  to  stage  one  act  of  a  Broadway  show.  I 
can  half  do  a  dozen  other  things  —  and  what  do 
they  come  to?  I'm  nothing  but  an  amateur." 

"  You  come  along  with  me,"  said  Sandy  firmly. 
He  got  up  and  took  Lansing's  arm.  "  I  know 
what's  the  matter  with  you,  old  chap  —  liver. 
I'm  going  to  order  your  dinner  for  you  tonight 
—  and  I'll  mix  the  cocktails  myself." 

Once  more,  it  was  easier  to  yield  than  to  resist. 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


And  Lansing  liked  the  fat  little  man;  he  didn't 
want  to  hurt  his  feelings.  Then,  he  had  to  eat 
dinner  —  why  not  with  Sandy? 

Sandy,  turned  autocrat,  chose  a  restaurant,  not 
a  club,  and  a  restaurant  comparatively  strange  to 
Lansing,  a  place  that  was  full  of  men,  and  reeked, 
even  so,  of  Broadway.  But  it  boasted,  as  Sandy 
explained,  a  cook  who  was  master  of  just  the 
dishes  Lansing  needed,  and  a  bar  that  was  stocked 
with  mysterious  liquors  vital  to  the  cocktail  that 
was  part  of  the  prescription.  Lansing  obeyed 
without  questioning;  the  cocktail,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  restored  some  of  his  self-respect.  He  began 
to  feel  a  little  sorry  for  himself. 

There  were  men  all  around  whom  Lansing 
knew.  Some  only  nodded;  several  came  over  to 
his  table,  and,  haltingly,  spoke,  with  sympathy 
and  regret,  of  the  failure  of  Lansing's.  But  the 
one  of  all  those  whom  Lansing  knew  best  said 
nothing  at  all.  This  was  Hazen,  a  lawyer,  his 
senior  by  twenty  years.  He  joined  them  for  his 
coffee,  and  talked  of  trifling  things  until  Sandy 
brought  up  the  failure.  Lansing  rather  hung  on 
his  answer;  after  the  sympathy  of  the  others  he 
had  been  disposed  to  resent  Hazen's  silence. 

[12] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  I  don't  know,"  said  Hazen  reluctantly.  "  You 
can  work  out  a  reorganization,  can't  you,  Lan- 
sing? " 

"  It's  too  late  for  that,"  said  Lansing,  with  a 
renewed  touch  of  bitterness.  "  The  competition's 
too  fierce.  If  you're  once  down  you'd  better  stay, 
nowadays.  My  father — " 

He  stopped,  gloomily  thoughtful. 

"  Well?  "  said  Hazen  quietly.  "  I  knew  your 
father.  He  weathered  some  severe  storms." 

"  Things  were  different  then,"  retorted  Lan- 
sing. "  Those  were  the  days  of  opportunity. 
There  were  chances,  then.  Things  waiting  to  be 
done.  Now  everything's  been  done,  or  is  being 
done.  It's  a  case  of  working  away  in  the  rut  you 
get  into  —  " 

"  So?  "  Hazen  had  snatched  the  chance  for  a 
long,  keen  look  at  Lansing.  "  You  think  the  great 
days  of  opportunity  here  are  over?  " 

"Aren't  they?"  asked  Lansing.  "Every- 
thing's standardized;  the  country's  settled;  it's 
grown  up.  There's  no  West  any  more  —  just  for 
one  thing.  Do  you  suppose  a  man  could  do  now 
what  Rockefeller  did  with  oil,  or  Carnegie  and 
that  Pittsburgh  crowd  with  steel?" 

[13] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Do  you  suppose  any  one  —  except  them- 
selves, perhaps  —  thought  they  could  do  what 
they  did,  when  they  were  getting  started?  "  Hazen 
answered  question  with  question. 

Lansing  didn't  answer.  And  Hazen,  after  a 
moment's  pause,  went  on. 

"  There's  a  good  deal  left  to  do,"  he  said  cheer- 
fully. "  And,  as  to  the  store,  there'll  be  a  reor- 
ganization, of  course,  whether  you're  in  it  or  not. 
Feeling  as  you  do,  you'd  better  stay  out  of  it,  I 
should  think.  But  you're  going  to  do  something, 
I  take  it?" 

"  Oh,  yes  I  I'll  wait  till  I  see  what  there  is  left. 
If  they  reorganize,  I  suppose  I'll  get  some  cash." 

"  Very  likely,"  said  Hazen.  "  And  you  had  a 
good  deal  of  stuff  outside  of  the  store?  " 

"  I  had  —  yes.  I've  thrown  most  of  it  to  the 
wolves,  though,  lately.  You  know,  it  looked  as  if 
some  cash  would  save  the  store.  So  I  put  up 
about  every  decent  security  I  had.  In  fact,  I've 
only  got  one  small  block  of  stock  left.  I  wouldn't 
have  thought  of  that  if  I  hadn't  found  a  dividend 
check  tonight  before  Sandy  dragged  me  here.  It's 
some  Western  Film  the  governor  must  have 
bought  to  oblige  a  friend.  I  supposed  it  wasn't 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


any  good  when  I  was  checking  up  the  stuff,  and 
left  it  out." 

"  Western  Film?  "  said  Hazen  curiously.  "  I 
didn't  know  any  was  loose.  How  much?" 

"  Only  a  few  shares  —  I've  forgotten  just  how 
many.  It's  no  good,  is  it?" 

"  Hard  to  tell,"  said  Hazen.  "  Depends  on  a 
lot  of  things." 

"  Oh,  I  say,"  protested  Brangwyn,  "  can't  we 
talk  about  somethin'  interestin'?  I  brought  old 
Bob  here  to  forget  business.  Who's  that  big 
bounder  over  there  at  the  round  table  —  the  chap 
with  the  bald  head?  " 

"That?"  Hazen  looked  across  the  room.  A 
good  many  eyes  were  centering  on  that  table  just 
then.  The  man  who  had  attracted  Brangwyn's 
attention  was  spectacular  enough  to  explain  the 
interest  he  aroused.  A  great  figure  of  a  man,  he 
seemed  to  tower,  even  as  he  sat  at  table,  leaning 
far  back,  his  voice  raised  in  a  roaring  note  that 
extinguished  hopelessly  any  attempt  of  his  com- 
panions to  speak  except  at  his  sufferance.  From 
time  to  time  he  brought  a  huge  fist  crashing  down 
on  the  cloth,  setting  silver  and  glass  to  dancing. 

"  That's  Jim  Hazzard,"  said  Hazen,  with  a 
[15] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


smile.  "  You  might  ask  him  about  your  Western 
Film  stock,  Bob.  He's  the  big  man  in  that  con- 
cern. And  —  well,  he  might  serve  as  a  living 
answer  to  some  of  your  other  questions,  too  — 
about  the  opportunities  one  can  still  find.  Five 
years  ago  he  was  running  a  saloon  in  Chicago,  and 
just  about  breaking  even.  Today  you'll  find  him 
rated  in  Bradstreet  at  a  million  and  a  half." 

A  man  may  have  a  good  many  more  millions 
than  one  and  a  half  and  still  not  be  worth  a  sec- 
ond glance.  But  that  isn't  so  of  a  man  who  has 
made  that  much  money  in  five  years.  Lansing 
stared,  frankly,  openly,  with  a  dawning  wonder 
in  his  eyes. 

"  You  mean  to  say  he's  made  that  —  out  of 
moving  pictures?  "  he  asked.  "  But  —  look  here 
—  that  dividend  check  —  it  didn't  represent  more 
than  four  per  cent,  and  it's  the  first  that's  ever 
been  paid  on  the  stock  —  " 

Hazen  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  You  might  ask  him  about  that,  too,"  he  sug- 
gested. "  You  want  to  remember  he's  on  the  in- 
side. The  men  on  the  ground  floor  don't  have  to 
depend  on  dividends.  They've  got  other  ways  of 
getting  money,  if  they  control  the  stock." 
[16] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Yes  —  that's  so,"  said  Lansing.  He  con- 
tinued to  stare  at  Hazzard,  absorbed,  fascinated. 
"  And  perhaps  my  father  thought  of  going  into 
that  game  in  earnest  —  of  getting  to  be  an 
insider?  Maybe  that  was  why  he  had  that  stock 
—  as  an  opening  wedge?  " 

"  Your  father  was  a  pioneer,"  said  Hazen. 
"  He  wasn't  in  the  habit  of  staying  on  the  out- 
side." 

"  I  know,"  said  Lansing.  He  drew  in  a  deep 
breath.  There  came  over  him,  with  an  astonish- 
ing vividness,  a  memory  of  that  outpouring  of 
women  from  the  five-cent  theater  in  Sixth  Avenue 
that  he  had  seen  that  afternoon.  He  had  a  vision 
of  such  theaters  in  other  streets.  He  remembered 
the  electric  signs,  the  garish  colored  posters, 
glimpsed  from  automobiles  in  which  he  had  rid- 
den through  the  swarming  streets  of  the  East  Side, 
the  residential  sections  far  uptown,  with  their  miles 
of  apartment  houses  in  serried  rows. 

"  Look  here !  "  he  said  suddenly.  "  I  was  go- 
ing to  try  to  sell  that  stock  —  I  thought  maybe 
that  dividend  would  make  a  market.  But  if  my 
father  thought  there  was  something  in  the 
business  —  " 

[17] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  I  heard  it  estimated  the  other  day,"  said 
Hazen  musingly,  "  that  five  or  six  million  people 
go  to  see  moving  pictures  every  day  in  America, 
in  about  seven  thousand  theaters." 

"  They're  welcome,"  said  Sandy,  with  a 
chuckle.  "  I  say — we've  got  time  to  take  in  a 
show,  there's  a  new  one  at  the  Casino." 

"  No,"  said  Lansing,  "  let's  go  to  the  movies. 
I  want  to  see  what  there  is  in  this  game.  Maybe 
it's  going  to  be  mine." 


[18] 


CHAPTER  II 

IT  was  not  wholly  Lansing's  fault  that  he  had 
come  to  what  passes  as  maturity  with  so  vague 
an  understanding  of  life.  He  had  been  the  vic- 
tim of  circumstances,  and  of  the  driving  necessity 
that  raises  a  barrier  between  so  many  American 
business  men  and  their  sons.  Lansing's  father 
had  been  infinitely  more  successful  as  a  merchant 
than  as  a  father.  He  had  commenced  life  in  very 
moderate  circumstances. 

Springing  from  a  good,  sound  stock,  that  had 
given  good  citizens  to  the  country,  but  citizens 
contented  with  the  sphere  in  which  they  found 
themselves,  he  had  been  stirred  from  his  earliest 
boyhood  by  ambition,  by  the  determination  to  lift 
himself  out  of  the  rut  in  which  he  seemed  destined 
to  live. 

The   elder  Lansing's   career  had  been  called 

meteoric  by  men  who  should  have  been  able  to 

understand  it  better.    He  himself  had  acquiesced 

in  that  false  definition  to  some  extent,  because  it 

[19] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


was  so  flattering  to  a  pride  that  was  very  natural, 

very  easy  to  understand  and  to  excuse.  He  had 
won  his  way,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  because  he  had  two  in- 
finitely precious  natural  gifts 
—  the  ability  to  work  as  hard 
as  was  necessary  to  attain  a 
desired  end,  and,  what  was 
infinitely  rarer  and  more 
precious  even  than  that,  an 
absolutely  clear  vision. 

His  son  had  been  born  dur- 
ing the  long  phase  of  transi- 
tion, when  the  elder  Lansing 
was  engaged  in  the  process 
of  transforming  his  business 
from  one  local  in  scope  to  one 
that  was,  in  the  end,  a  na- 
tional institution.  With  the 
best  will  in  the  world,  he 
could  not  have  devoted  him- 
self to  bringing  up  his  son  to 
follow  in  his  own  footsteps. 

The  demands  of  his  business  were  too  exacting. 

It  seemed  to  him  safe  to  take  it  for  granted  that 

[20] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


his  success  was  the  re- 

suit  of  inherent  qualities,  reasonably  certain 
to  be  reproduced  in  his  son.  He  did  not  take 
into  account  the  part  that  the  environment 
of  his  boyhood  had  played  in  the  development  of 
those  qualities  in  himself.  He  did  not  ask  himself 
why  those  qualities,  assuming  them  to  have  been 
latent  in  his  father  and  in  the  men  of  still  earlier 
generations,  had  suddenly  been  aroused  to  a  fierce 
and  active  life  in  him. 

[21] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


He  did  not  stop  to  ask  himself  whether  that 
miracle,  to  which  he  traced  his  own  achievement, 
would  have  occurred  had  ambition  not  been 
aroused  in  him  by  the  absence,  during  his  most 
impressionable  years,  of  things  he  wanted  and 
needed.  He  gave  an  incredibly  small  portion  of 
his  thoughts  to  his  son,  for  that  matter.  Robert 
Lansing,  as  a  boy,  was  wholly  and  comfortably 
normal.  His  school  reports  were  good;  he  kept 
out  of  scrapes.  It  was  very  easy  for  his  father 
to  dismiss  him  from  his  mind;  to  rest  in  the  com- 
fortable belief  that  he  was  a  good,  promising  boy, 
who  would  grow  up  and  be  a  credit  to  his  name. 

Robert  Lansing,  therefore,  had  developed  very 
much  as  he  himself  chose.  He  had  selected  his 
own  college;  he  had  followed  the  studies  that 
interested  him.  His  ambitions  were  real  enough, 
but  they  were  wholly  different  from  those  that 
had  urged  his  father  to  commercial  conquest. 
Those  ambitions,  in  his  father,  had  been  created, 
very  largely,  by  sheer  want,  by  the  lack  of  things 
that  others  had.  When  he  was  old  enough  to 
have  a  definite  notion  of  what  he  wanted  from 
life,  the  son  realized  that  provision  had  been  made 
for  the  satisfaction  of  his  wants;  that  he  himself 

[22] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


need  do  nothing  to  secure  them.  Inevitably,  since 
he  was  without  the  creative  talent  that  might  have 
made  him  an  artist  of  some  sort,  he  drifted  into 
the  ranks  of  the  dilettantes. 

His  father's  early  death,  leaving  him  rich  and 
unoccupied,  since  he  had  no  training  to  fit  him 
for  the  task  of  managing  his  property,  and  had 
enough  native  wit  to  see  that  he  would  only  ham- 
per and  obstruct  the  work  of  the  men  who  were  in 
active  charge,  removed  the  last  and  only  obstacle 
that  might  have  checked  this  drift. 

Lansing  settled  down,  accordingly,  to  a  pleas- 
ant and  aimless  sort  of  existence.  As  he  had 
tried  to  make  Sandy  Brangwyn  see,  he  was  an 
amateur.  He  could  do  half  a  dozen  things  pass- 
ably well.  He  was  artistic,  without  being  in  any 
sense  of  the  word  an  artist.  He  had  played  fairly 
hard;  he  had  never  worked  at  all.  Until  this 
smashing  blow  had  come,  there  had  been  nothing 
to  rouse  a  real  ambition  in  him. 

He  had  lived,  largely,  among  people  like  him- 
self. Some  inherited  quality,  some  harder  strain 
within  him,  had  saved  him  from  an  insidious  peril 
that  might  have  given  permanence  to  the  harm 
that  had  been  wrought.  He  had  never  taken  the 

03] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


people  he  knew  best  quite  seriously.  There  had 
been  moments  always  when  he  laughed  at  them, 
when  he  regarded  them  with  a  certain  degree  of 
cynicism.  He  had  had,  always,  a  veiled  and  really 
subconscious  contempt  for  the  men;  a  similar  and 
equally  unadmitted  pity  for  the  women.  In  these 
feelings  he  had  included  himself,  and  he  had 
recognized,  in  moments  of  frank  and  uncomfort- 
able introspection,  the  inherent  futility  of  his  own 
determination  to  quit  fooling,  some  time,  and  do 
something  worth  while.  He  had  known  how  im- 
probable it  was  that  he  would  ever  realize  that 
determination. 

Women  had  never  touched  his  life  greatly.  His 
ideals  regarding  them  were  high,  and  the  women 
he  knew,  while  he  found  them  charming,  delight- 
ful to  play  with,  had  all  failed  to  embody  those 
ideals.  He  looked  for  something  in  them  that 
they  seemed  not  to  possess.  Later,  when  he 
thought  of  those  days,  he  saw  that  he  had  treated 
them  with  something  less  than  justice ;  that  the 
shortcoming  might  have  been  on  his  side,  and 
that  it  had  been  unfair  for  him  to  expect  these 
women  to  reveal  to  him  something  he  had  shown 
no  ability  whatever  to  understand. 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


But,  whatever  the  reason,  and  whether  it  was 
his  fault  or  that  of  the  women  he  had  known, 
Lansing  had  never  really  been  in  love.  He  had 
had  his  moments,  prolonged  moments  at  times,  of 
illusion.  But  he  had  always  awakened  from  his 
dream;  disillusionment  had  always  come,  and  sex 
had  played  a  small,  indeed  a  negligible,  part  in 
his  life. 

Lansing  thought  of  these  things,  now  that  it 
was  so  clear  to  him  that  he  would  have  to  dig  a 
new  channel  for  his  life.  Looking  back,  he  could 
see  all  that  had  gone  before  in  an  entirely  new 
perspective.  It  amazed  him  to  see  how  shallow, 
how  narrowly  bound,  the  old  channel  had  been. 
And  this  vision  helped  him  greatly.  It  took  much 
of  the  sharpness  from  the  sting  of  the  wound  that 
the  failure  had  dealt  him. 

Some  time,  he  knew,  he  would  have  looked 
back,  as  he  was  doing  now,  and  the  futility,  the 
emptiness,  of  life,  as  he  had  lived  it,  would  have 
been  revealed  to  him,  as  it  was  being  revealed 
now.  There  was  nothing  to  regret  about  what  he 
was  forced  to  leave  behind.  After  all,  he  could 
be  thankful  for  the  blow  that  had  forced  him  to 
strike  a  balance  sheet. 


CHAPTER  III 

WHERE  the  guns  of  the  twin  forts  of  Wash- 
ington and  Lee  once  swept  the  Hudson, 
barring  the  ascent  of  the  river  by  the  British  dur- 
ing the  Revolution,  history  has  been  made  again 
in  these  latter  days  —  the  history  of  a  new  indus- 
try. Fort  Lee  is  as  great  a  name  in  the  chronicles 
of  the  movies  as  it  was  in  those  of  the  Continental 
army.  On  top  of  the  Palisades  wild  deeds  are 
done  daily.  Within  easy  gunshot  of  the  metrop- 
olis of  America,  that  wild  land  on  top  of  the 
crags  that  overlook  the  Hudson  is  a  treasure 
house  for  the  men  who  make  moving  pictures.  A 
good  director  will  find  there  almost  any  scene  he 
wants.  He  can  achieve  the  local  color  for  West- 
ern prairies,  for  forest  romance,  for  the  battle- 
fields of  half  the  world.  The  most  realistic  pic- 
tures of  the  Canadian  Northwest  that  were  ever 
made  were  taken  there,  but  a  few  feet  of  film  had 
to  be  cut  out,  now  and  then,  when  the  careless 
camera  man  had  allowed  the  great  gas  tank  across 
the  river,  on  the  New  York  shore,  to  appear. 
[26] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


The  ferry  from  Manhattan  carries  a  daily 
army  of  invasion,  bound  for  the  studios.  They 
are  a  friendly  lot,  most  of  them,  gathering  in  jolly 
groups.  But  some  there  are,  every  day,  whose 
eyes  are  full  of  care.  These  are  the  extra  people, 
doomed  as  yet  to  make  their  daily  pilgrimage  in 
search  of  work,  as  likely  to  go  on  a  vain  errand  to 
the  Universal  studio  at  Coytesville  and  find  that 
only  a  society  drama,  with  no  extras,  is  being 
made,  as  to  the  Pathe  plant  at  Fort  Lee,  where  a 
frantic  director  may  be  tearing  his  hair  because 
he  has  suddenly  decided  he  needs  a  hundred  extra 
people,  and  only  a  dozen  have  appeared.  It  is  as 
difficult  as  it  ever  was  to  be  in  two  places  a  mile 
apart  at  one  and  the  same  moment,  and  it  is  sel- 
dom, indeed,  that  a  movie  director  will  condescend 
to  say,  a  day  ahead,  what  his  future  needs  will  be. 

And  so  there  is  something  wistful,  pathetic, 
often,  about  these  stragglers  and  camp  followers 
of  the  army,  just  as  there  is  something  pleasing 
about  the  great  mass  of  privates  in  the  ranks,  those 
who  are  regularly  employed  in  small  parts.  But 
then  there  are  the  aristocrats,  too.  You  can  see 
these  lolling  in  their  automobiles,  nowadays,  for 
the  day  of  great  salaries  has  come  to  the  movies, 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


looking  out  with 
condescension  on  the 
humble  ones  who 
stand  and  will  rush 
for  the  trolleys  at 
the  end  of  the  trip. 
Here  you  may  enjoy 
an  intimate  view  of 
some  favorite  of  the  films,  smoking  a  cigarette  or 
dabbling  at  her  face  with  a  powder  puff,  as  the 
case  may  be. 

But  the  day  of  automobile  salaries  was  only 
just  beginning  to  dawn  when  Lansing  made  his 
first  trip  on  the  eight-o'clock  boat  to  begin  his 
practical  study  of  the  movies.  The  movies  were 
attracting  audiences  by  virtue  of  their  novelty. 
The  mere  fact  that  the  pictures  moved  seemed  to 
be  almost  enough.  The  era  of  tremendous  com- 
petition, with  the  exploitation  of  personalities,  was 
coming,  had  begun,  indeed.  But  it  hadn't  arrived. 
[28] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Machinery  was  still  --=J-l 
in  the  ascendant, 
since  it  had  not  yet 
reached  the  perfec- 
tion of  standardiza- 
tion. As  soon  as  it 
did,  the  supremacy 
of  the  men  and 
women  who  could  use  that  machinery  best  would 
be  assured;  actors  and  actresses,  producers,  would 
stand  out  as  individuals,  and  their  names  would 
mean  something  to  those  who  maintained  the  in- 
dustry by  their  tributes  of  nickels  and  dimes. 

It  was  like  that,  of  course,  with  the  automobile. 
In  the  early  days,  when  Daimler  and  Benz  and 
Haynes  and  Selden  were  laying  the  foundations, 
the  great  thing  was  that  a  wagon  could  be  made 
to  move  without  being  drawn  by  horses.  Just  as 
with  the  pictures,  the  fundamental  fact  of  motion 
was  the  all-sufficient,  essential  thing.  With  some- 

[29] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


thing  approximating  perfection  came  the  great 
days  of  the  individual,  the  era  of  racing.  Then 
men  who  couldn't  have  told  you  whether  Daimler 
was  a  new  sort  of  apple  or  an  operatic  composer 
knew  all  about  the  achievements  of  Lancia  and 
Barney  Oldfield,  and  had  the  history  of  the  Van- 
derbilt  Cup  and  the  French  Grand  Prix  at  the  end 
of  their  tongues. 

Lansing  had  let  no  grass  grow  under  his  feet 
after  that  night  when  he  had  seen  Jim  Hazzard. 
He  had  been  able  to  see  through  the  grossness,  the 
coarse  shell  of  the  man,  to  the  smooth-working 
brain  behind  the  cold,  blue  eyes.  He  had  sensed, 
as  he  studied  Hazzard,  his  oneness  with  his 
father,  with  those  other  seizers  of  opportunity. 
But  he  might  have  done  that  and  been  no  nearer 
to  seeing  that  the  same  opportunity  that  Hazzard 
had  seized  upon  lay  within  his  grasp,  too.  He 
had  gone  farther.  The  very  fact  that  the  thing 
surprised  him  held  a  suggestion  that  was  full  of 
meaning  —  that  and  his  instant  reversion  to  the 
moment  when  he  had  been  caught  in  the  crowd  of 
women  from  the  nickelodeon  in  Sixth  Avenue. 

Why  hadn't  he  known  about  the  movies?  Why 
hadn't  he,  himself,  fallen  under  a  spell  that  held 

[30] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


so  many  millions  of  people  every  day?  And  how 
about  Hazen  and  Brangwyn?  They  didn't  go  to 
the  movies,  nor  did  his  other  friends.  Yet  he  and 
his  friends  weren't  exceptional  people.  They 
shared  all  sorts  of  entertainments  with  these  peo- 
ple who  made-  up  the  audiences  of  the  nickel 
theaters.  The  only  difference  was  that  he  and 
Brangwyn  sat  in  two-dollar  orchestra  seats  while 
these  others  looked  down  from  the  upper  balconies. 
A  show,  to  be  really  successful,  had  to  appeal  to 
orchestra  and  galleries  alike.  He  caught  the 
analogy,  and  thought  about  it.  And,  because,  to 
think  intelligently,  he  had  to  have  a  lot  of  facts, 
he  set  to  work  to  take  the  moving-picture  industry 
apart  and  see  what  made  its  wheels  go  round. 

He  had  gone  at  his  task  in  a  cold,  driving  way 
that  would  have  surprised  Sandy  Brangwyn  and 
others  of  his  older  friends  vastly.  It  surprised 
him,  for  that  matter.  But  in  the  turmoil,  the 
sickening  work  of  watching  the  liquidation  and 
winding  up  of  Lansing's,  it  meant  a  good  deal  to 
have  something  that  kept  him  busy,  something 
that  represented,  in  a  way,  a  bridge  between  the 
dead,  useless  past  and  the  future  in  which  he  hoped 
really  to  live. 

[31] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


There  had  been  much  for  him  to  learn.  He 
rediscovered  things  about  himself,  half  forgotten 
—  his  need  for  exact  knowledge.  He  inherited 
that  from  his  father,  who  had  applied  a  scientific 
mind  to  trade.  In  six  weeks  of  digging  he  learned 
more  things  about  the  making  of  moving  pictures 
than  Jim  Hazzard,  with  his  million  and  a  half 
that  was  still  growing,  would  ever  know.  He  had 
the  history  of  the  film,  of  the  camera,  with  the 
vital  sprocket,  at  his  command.  He  revived  an 
old  interest  in  photography  and  made  a  study  of 
the  science  of  it  that  would  have  been  amusing  if 
it  hadn't  been  so  passionately  earnest. 

And,  day  after  day,  night  after  night,  whenever 
he  had  a  spare  hour,  he  was  in  moving-picture 
theaters.  He  watched  the  films  at  first,  but  soon 
he  was  more  interested  in  the  people  who  sat 
around  him.  He  watched  three  or  four  successive 
runs  of  a  picture,  to  study  the  impression  it  made 
upon  wholly  different  types  in  the  audiences.  He 
analyzed  the  appeal  of  every  sort  of  picture,  filled 
endless  sheets  of  paper  with  notes,  and  then  tore 
them  up,  filing  away  his  conclusions  mentally. 

He  laughed  at  himself,  sometimes.  Jim  Haz- 
zard hadn't  done  this  sort  of  thing,  nor,  so  far  as 

[3*3 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


he  knew,  had  any  of  the  other  big  men  of  the 
industry.  Perhaps  they  hadn't  felt  the  need.  But 
he  did.  He  had  a  curiously  logical  mind,  that  de- 
manded exactitude.  All  the  time  he  was  making 
plans  vaguely.  And  all  the  time  he  knew  that 
they  would  remain  in  that  vague  state  until  he  had 
his  foundation  of  exact  knowledge  properly  built. 
Again,  his  heritage  from  his  father  was  striking 
out.  One  who  watched  him,  and  had  known  the 
elder  Lansing,  would  have  understood,  remem- 
bering how  Robert  Lansing's  father  had  under- 
stood every  detail  of  his  business,  so  that  he  could 
show  a  boy  the  best  way  to  wrap  a  spool  of 
thread,  the  clerk  in  the  shipping  room  the  easi- 
est, quickest  way  to  box  a  dinner  set,  a  salesgirl 
exactly  the  way  to  send  a  customer  away  with  the 
feeling  of  satisfaction  in  the  service  of  the  store 
that  would  make  her  return. 

Financially,  Robert  Lansing  suffered  less  than 
he  might  have  done  from  the  failure  of  the  great 
store.  There  had  been  a  reorganization,  abruptly 
halting  the  receivership  and  the  forced  sales. 
Other  interests  had  stepped  in,  seizing  avidly  the 
chance  of  a  sharp  bargain.  There  had  been  a 
compounding  with  creditors,  an  assumption,  by 

[33] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


the  new  owners  of  certain  contracts  and  great 
debts.  Lansing  hadn't  been  vitally  interested. 
He  had  turned  his  own  interests  over  to  Hazen, 
and  had  accepted,  with  astonished  gratitude,  the 
lawyer's  report  of  what  had  been  saved  from  the 
wreck.  There  was  a  good  deal  more  money  left 
than  he  had  expected  —  nearly  eighty  thousand 
dollars.  Conservatively  invested,  that  would  rep- 
resent a  comfortable  income,  enough  to  let  him 
go  on  very  much  as  before,  with  certain  easily 
effected  economies.  But  he  was  in  no  mood  for 
conservative  investments,  and  he  was  too  busy  to 
worry  about  the  things  he  had  stopped  doing,  im- 
portant as  they  had  seemed  before.  He  aban- 
doned luxurious  rooms  and  service  without  a 
qualm,  and  buried  himself  in  a  two-room  apart- 
ment far  uptown,  where  he  cooked  his  own  break- 
fast and  had  an  arrangement  with  the  janitor's 
wife  to  make  his  bed  and  sweep  his  rooms  for  a 
weekly  pittance.  The  bulk  of  his  money  he 
banked,  leaving  it  instantly  available  for  the 
grasping  of  the  opportunity  he  had  determined  to 
make  for  himself  out  of  this  new-born  moving- 
picture  industry. 

More  and  more,  as  he  had  studied  the  business, 

[34] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Lansing  had  been  absorbed  and  obsessed  by  the 
great,  dominating  figure  of  Jim  Hazzard.  Not 
that  Hazzard  was,  at  this  time,  the  greatest  fig- 
ure in  the  industry.  Half  a  dozen  men  were 
richer,  on  the  surface ;  at  least,  bigger.  But  he  felt 
that  Hazzard  was  still  growing,  moving,  reaching 
out  for  greater  things  than  any  of  them  had  yet 
touched.  That  was  why,  with  his  theoretical 
knowledge  fairly  assembled,  Lansing  would  have 
selected  one  of  Hazzard's  studios  as  his  destina- 
tion on  the  morning  of  his  first  trip  across  the 
Fort  Lee  ferry,  even  had  he  not  held  his  few 
shares  of  Hazzard's  stock.  He  wanted  to  get  in 
touch  with  the  vital  force  that  Hazzard  was  con- 
tributing to  the  actual  making  of  the  pictures. 
And  so  he  was  on  his  way,  without  introduction, 
as  casually,  on  the  surface,  as  any  of  the  other 
camp  followers,  to  look  for  work  as  an  extra,  at 
the  two  or  three  dollars  a  day  that  such  work 
commanded. 

Lansing  had  covered  a  good  deal  of  ground 
since  the  day  he  had  been  caught  in  the  crowd  in 
Sixth  Avenue  without  any  understanding  of  its  sig- 
nificance. On  the  ferryboat,  he  was  vastly  inter- 
ested in  the  people  he  saw.  He  tried  to  guess 
[35] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


what  sort  of  parts  these  men  and  women  played, 
or  hoged  to  play.  He  watched  them  as  they  spoke 
to  one  another;  picked  out,  first  one,  then  another, 
and  both  watched  and  listened  shamelessly  to  see 
how  facial  expression  interpreted  and  colored 
what  they  were  saying. 

And  then,  by  pure  chance,  his  eyes  fell  on  a 
slim,  pale  girl  who  stood  apart  from  the  others. 
Like  him,  she  was  watching  them,  with  an  intent, 
tremendous  interest  she  made  no  effort  to  conceal. 
She  leaned  forward,  and  her  eyes  wandered  back 
and  forth  from  one  group  to  another.  Her  eyes 
were  deep  set,  of  a  dark  gray,  that  gave  them  the 
most  curious  emphasis.  Strictly  speaking,  she 
was  not  beautiful.  Lansing,  with  his  new  trick 
of  observation,  understood  that  —  and  studied 
her,  almost  with  irritation,  to  find  out  what  it  was 
that  made  it  so  impossible  to  overlook  her,  even 
in  this  crowd. 

For  just  a  moment  he  thought  it  was  her  pallor 
and  her  eyes.  Then,  again,  he  decided  that  he 
had  been  wrong,  that,  after  all,  she  was  beautiful. 
But  her  features,  taken  one  by  one,  disproved  that. 
They  weren't  in  accord,  somehow,  with  the  slim 
grace  of  her  body,  and  his  eyes  wandered,  incon- 
[36] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


sequently,  to  her  hands  and  feet,  which  were. 
Then  he  caught  the  secret.  There  were  moments, 
when  something  interested  her,  when  her  beauty 
was  in  the  ascendant.  But  that  was  due  to  the 
astonishing  mobility  of  her  face,  its  extraordinary 
expressiveness.  For  he  could  see,  when  her  face 
was  in  repose,  the  faint  thickening  of  every  line. 
Her  nostrils  were  just  a  hint  too  broad,  and  her 
nose  itself,  straight  enough,  had  not  the  thin,  deli- 
cate line  that  beauty  demands.  So  with  her  lips. 
Parted,  one  would  not  notice  that  thickening, 
not  so  pronounced  as  to  suggest  coarseness.  But 
when  her  mouth  was  still  it  was  there.  And  yet 
that  clumsiness  of  modeling  that  robbed  her  of 
the  beauty  she  had  so  nearly  achieved  was  what 
gave  her  the  expressiveness,  the  quick  reflection  of 
each  trifling  change  of  mood  or  impression  that 
was  her  great  attraction. 

Lansing  fell  into  a  brown  study  as  he  stared  at 
her,  so  that  he  saw,  after  a  moment,  not  the  girl 
herself,  but  the  mental  image  of  her  that  he  had 
recorded.  And  then,  with  a  start,  he  came  to  him- 
self, and  found  that  her  eyes  were  fixed  on  him, 
that  she  was  appraising  his  stare.  They  fell  away 
at  once,  but  not  before  he  had  seen  and  under- 
[37] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


stood  the  thought  that  was  back  of  her  eyes.  She 
was  wondering  at  him  and  his  curious  stare,  trying 
to  analyze  it,  to  determine  whether  she  need  fear 
him,  or  resent  his  scrutiny.  At  that  he  smiled, 
very  faintly,  to  himself,  but  he  was  filled,  too,  with 
a  sense  of  pity  that  was  not  quite  dispelled  when 
the  boat  bumped  against  the  piles  of  tke  slip,  and 
he  turned  eagerly  shoreward,  with  the  feeling  that 
he  had  come  to  a  landing  on  the  coast  of  adventure. 


[38] 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  coast  of  adventure  it  was,  perhaps.  But 
it  was  a  barren,  rock-bound  sort  of  coast, 
as  forbidding,  one  might  guess,  as  that  upon 
which  the  Pilgrims  landed  in  New  England.  It 
may  have  been  that  thought  that  made  Lansing 
stick  to  his  quest,  too,  for  more  than  once,  after 
his  landing,  sick  and  disgusted,  he  was  on  the  point 
of  giving  up  and  looking  elsewhere  for  his  oppor- 
tunity. 

In  the  rush  from  the  ferryhouse  to  the  waiting 
trolley  cars,  Lansing  brushed  against  the  girl,  and 
shied  off  at  once.  Yet  they  met,  two  minutes  later, 
in  the  middle  of  a  car  they  had  boarded  at  oppo- 
site ends,  and  he  caught  the  girl  biting  her  lips  as 
she  repressed  a  faint  smile.  She  had  decided  by 
this  time,  evidently,  that  his  scrutiny  called  neither 
for  fear  nor  for  resentment. 

The  car  took  them  all,  regulars  and  extra  peo- 
ple alike,  up  the  Palisades,  in  a  winding  course 
made  necessary  by  the  steep  ascent.  At  a  junction, 
on  the  level  plain  above,  the  delegations  for  the 

[39] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


different  studios  began  to  scatter,  but  Lansing  and 
the  girl  were  bound  for  the  same  destination. 
When  they  reached  the  end  of  the  run  of  the  sec- 
ond car  they  alone  survived  of  the  unattached 
group.  The  others  had  tried  their  luck  at  differ- 
ent studios.  Up  in  the  front  of  the  car,  a  little 
group  of  half  a  dozen  were  headed  for  the  West- 
ern studio,  too,  it  seemed;  when  the  car  stopped, 
the  girl  let  them  lead  the  way  up  the  hill,  and 
Lansing,  hoping  she  knew  the  ropes,  brought  up 
the  rear  of  the  procession.  Here,  at  the  very 
start,  with  all  his  theoretical  knowledge  of  the 
films,  he  was  in  practical  difficulties.  He  realized 
suddenly  that  he  didn't  know  how  to  ask  for  work, 
didn't  have  an  idea  of  the  routine. 

The  girl  did,  however,  and  showed  it  by  the 
assurance  of  her  movements  and  her  manner. 
Lansing's  first  glimpse  of  the  studio  showed  him  a 
high,  long  fence,  behind  which  he  saw  canvas 
backs  of  "  sets  "  —  scenery  placed  outdoors.  It 
was  like  coming  to  the  stage  of  a  theater  from 
the  wings.  Then  came  an  overgrown  conserva- 
tory, all  of  glass,  and  beyond  that  a  structure  that 
looked  like  a  barn  or  a  converted  livery  stable. 
Into  this  the  actors  disappeared  who  led  the  van, 

[40] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


and  Lansing  hastened  his  steps  a  little  as  he  saw 
the  girl  follow  them.  By  the  time  he  got  inside 
the  girl  alone  was  left.  She  sat  down  quietly  just 
outside  a  gate,  and,  after  he  had  read  a  forbidding 
sign,  directed  especially  to  "  extras,"  Lansing  fol- 
lowed suit. 

But  he  did  it  with  a  chill  that  affected  his  en- 
thusiasm for  the  whole  adventure  most  adversely. 
Was  this  any  way  to  do  business?  There  was  not 
even  an  office  boy  to  take  note  of  their  presence ; 
just  a  sign  that  forbade  all  who  were  not  cast  to 
pass  the  gate.  From  within  there  came  sounds 
of  life.  Talk,  laughter,  occasionally  loud-voiced 
inquiries  for  this  person  or  that,  the  sound  of  fur- 
niture being  dragged  about. 

Lansing  wasn't  used  to  waiting.  It  made  him 
restless,  and  he  got  up,  after  a  few  minutes,  and 
began  to  pace  the  little  waiting  hall.  A  dozen 
people  would  have  crowded  it;  that  was  a  griev- 
ance, too,  though  there  was  room  enough,  cer- 
tainly, for  the  girl  and  himself.  She  watched 
him  for  a  minute  with  amused  eyes,  then  said, 

"  This  your  first  time?  " 

He  swung  around,  and  his  hat  came  off.  His 
first  impression  was  one  of  annoyance.  No  girl 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


as  pretty  as  this  one  should  have  such  a  voice ! 
It  was  unmusical,  rough,  untrained.  But  it  was 
a  kindly  question,  of  course.  And  her  voice  ex- 
plained why  she  had  recourse  to  the  movies,  when 
the  stage  seemed  to  be  her  vocation. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered.  "  Is  this  the  usual  thing? 
Does  one  always  have  to  sit  down  and  wait  like 
this?" 

"  It  all  depends,"  she  told  him.  "  I've  waited 
here  for  three  hours,  sometimes.  But  then,  again, 
you're  likely  to  be  called  in  right  away.  You 
never  can  tell." 

"  That's  a  fine  way  to  do  business,"  said  Lan- 
sing, in  great  disgust.  "  I  shouldn't  think  they'd 
get  many  people  to  come  for  work,  at  that  rate." 

"  Oh,  well !  "  She  shrugged  her  shoulders 
slightly.  He  noticed  that  it  was  a  trick  of  hers 
to  make  a  gesture  serve  the  ends  of  speech  when- 
ever she  could.  "  Hello  —  here's  some  one  now 
—  Haines,  I  think." 

A  young  man,  coatless,  his  sleeves  rolled  up, 
perspiring,  exuding  energy  as  well  as  moisture, 
came  down  the  hall  that  had  been  made  by  board- 
ing off  partitions.  His  gait  was  half  a  walk,  half 
a  run. 

[42] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Extras !  "  he  bawled,  as  he  approached. 
"Who's  here?  Oh  —  "  And  he  swore. 

He  came  to  a  halt  and  surveyed  them  dis- 
gustedly. 

"  Beat  it  inside,  Brewster!  "  he  said  to  the  girl. 
"  Street  stuff  —  get  a  wop  costume." 

She  departed,  with  a  faint  smile  thrown  at 
Lansing  as  she  went.  Haines,  the  director,  glared 
at  Lansing. 

"Greenhorn?"  he  snapped.  "Any  experi- 
ence?" 

"  Yes !  No  !  "  said  Lansing,  answering  both 
questions,  and  glared  back. 

"  All  right  —  I'll  have  to  use  you  today,  any- 
how," said  Haines.  "Dick!" 

A  lean  youth,  with  sagging  shoulders,  emerged 
from  a  cubby-hole  beyond  the  gate. 

"  Dick,  phone  and  see  if  you  can't  scare  me  up 
a  dozen  extras  from  around  for  that  street  scene. 
Then  take  this  guy's  name  and  show  him  how  to 
get  ready.  Shoot  him  along  when  he's  fixed." 

He  disappeared.  Dick  crooked  a  finger,  and 
Lansing,  raging  inwardly,  followed  him.  He 
waited  while  Dick  telephoned  to  three  or  four 
studios,  in  a  complaining,  singsong  voice. 

[43] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Come  along!  "  said  Dick;  then,  "  gee  —  it's 
always  the  same  way.  When  we  don't  need  any 
extras  we  can't  walk  without  stepping  on  'em  — 
when  we  do,  there  won't  be  any." 

"  Why  not  let  them  know  ahead?  "  suggested 
Lansing. 

"  Gee  —  how's  the  boss  know  what  he's  going 
to  make  till  he  gets  ready?  "  Dick  asked.  "Here 
y'are  —  pick  out  one  of  them  wop  outfits  and  get 
into  it,  quick!  Better  darken  your  eyes  a  bit,  too, 
and  wipe  some  stuff  on  your  lips.  Know  how?  " 

Lansing  did  know  how.  His  success  in  ama- 
teur theatricals  implied  that  sort  of  knowledge. 
He  applied  pencil  and  lip  stick  quickly  and  skill- 
fully; then  donned  the  costume  of  an  Italian  of 
Mulberry  Bend  with  a  careless,  but  effective  atten- 
tion to  details  like  tie  and  sash  that  won  Dick's 
approval.  And  then  he  followed  Dick  to  a  place 
that  made  him  think  of  an  insane  asylum  he  had 
once  visited. 

For  the  first  time,  he  saw  a  picture  in  the  process 
of  making.  Clouds  had  darkened  the  sky  for  a 
time,  so  an  indoor  scene  was  being  made.  Under 
a  battery  of  vacuum  lights,  casting  a  ghastly, 
greenish-white  glare  that  annihilated  shadows, 

[44] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


three  or  four  principals  were  rehearsing  a  scene. 
Haines,  a  script  clutched  in  his  hand,  sat  astride 
a  chair  before  the  camera,  barking  out  his  instruc- 
tions that  governed  every  movement,  every  ges- 
ture, every  shade  of  expression  of  the  actors. 
Two  minutes  of  observation  left  Lansing  with  an 
overwhelming  impression  —  the  utter  destruction 
of  individuality  that  was  involved  in  this  process. 
It  was  Haines  who  did  everything. 

The  actors  didn't  know  what  they  were  doing. 
Blindly,  dumbly,  they  obeyed  orders.  Haines 
alone  knew  the  meaning  of  what  they  did.  In 
his  mind  alone  were  all  the  scattered  threads 
of  the  story  that  was  being  enacted,  brought  to- 
gether. A  cast  that  included  Bernhardt  and 
Duse,  Sothern  and  Forbes-Robertson,  couldn't 
have  interpreted  that  photo  play,  since  Haines 
gave  his  puppets  no  inkling  of  the  emotions,  the 
desires  that  belonged  to  the  characters  they  played. 

"  You  come  in,  Deane,'1  he  would  say  to  the 
leading  woman.  "  Look  at  the  picture  and  regis- 
ter grief." 

And  Mary  Deane,  a  pretty,  insignificant  blonde, 
obeyed.  But  the  grief  that  distorted  her  features 
carried  no  conviction.  She  registered  grief  be- 

[45] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


cause  Haines  told  her  to  do  so;  not  be- 
cause, interpreting  the  role  of  the  heroine,  she 
imagined  herself,  for  a  moment,  as  suffering  what- 
ever it  was  that  the  scenario  called  upon  that  char- 
acter to  endure. 

So  it  went.  The  girl  he  knew  as  "  Brewster  " 
came  in,  transformed,  somehow,  by  her  make-up 
and  her  costume,  and  looking,  to  his  eyes,  infinitely 
more  like  an  actress  and  an  artist  than  any  of  the 
much  better-paid  principals.  Other  extra  people 
came  straggling  in,  too,  during  the  morning.  Just 
before  the  brief  luncheon  interval,  Lansing  was 
called  up,  and  worked  before  the  camera  for  the 
first  time.  His  part  made  no  demands  on  him; 
he  had  simply  to  form  one  of  a  crowd  that  de- 
nounced the  driver  of  an  automobile  who  had 
just  run  over  a  child.  And  yet,  in  this  scene,  some- 
thing happened  that  made  a  great  impression  on 
him. 

While  it  was  being  rehearsed,  under  the  lash 
of  the  director's  tongue,  the  gray-eyed  girl  sud- 
denly detached  herself  from  the  crowd  of  extras, 
sank  down,  and,  covering  her  face  with  her  shawl, 
began  to  sob  convulsively,  her  shoulders  heaving. 
Haines  saw  her,  leaped  forward,  then  stopped. 

[46] 


The  gray~  eyed  girl 
sank  down,  and, 
covering  her  face  with 
her  shawl,  began  to 
sob  convulsively 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  That's  good!  "  he  cried  sharply.  "  Repeat 
that  —  and  take  down  your  shawl  afterward,  and 
register  grief.  Look  as  if  you  were  the  kid's 
mother.  We  need  something  like  that  for  this 
scene." 

"Of  course  you  did!"  muttered  Lansing  to 
himself. 

And  afterward  he  approached  the  girl. 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  break  away  from 
what  he  told  us  to  do?  "  he  asked  her  curiously. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  she  said.  "I  —  I  just 
sort  of  felt  as  if  I  really  was  a  woman  in  a  crowd 
like  that  —  and  I  thought  if  I  was  I'd  cry." 

"  I  see,"  said  Lansing  thoughtfully. 

It  seemed  to  him  afterward  that  that  was  the 
one  bright  spot  of  his  whole  day  in  the  studio. 
It  was  the  one  instance  of  a  genuine  effort  to  act. 
Everything  else  was  mechanical,  the  result  of  a 
narrow,  prescribed  routine.  It  was  by  a  slavish 
adherence  to  routine  that  Haines  got  his  effects. 
Lansing  wasn't  ready  to  question  this.  Haines 
might  be  right;  probably  he  was.  But,  if  he  was, 
what  hope  could  lie  in  the  whole  business?  Mari- 
onettes, the  Punch  and  Judy  shows  he  had  seen  in 
France  and  England,  offered  as  great  a  field  as 

[48] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


moving  pictures  of  the  sort  Haines  made.  And 
yet  —  when  Haines  had  the  real  thing  thrown  at 
him  by  the  gray-eyed  girl,  he  had  recognized  it, 
seized  upon  it  avidly.  Perhaps  Haines  knew  the 
limitations  of  his  people.  Perhaps  he  had  to  work 
as  he  did  with  the  material  he  had. 

However  that  might  be,  Lansing  had  accom- 
plished one  thing,  at  least.  He  knew  now,  or 
thought  he  did,  why  the  people  who  sat  in  the 
two-dollar  seats  of  the  theaters  didn't  fill  the  five- 
and  ten-cent  moving-picture  houses  —  one  of  the 
reasons,  at  least. 

"  These  people  don't  see  what  they've  got,"  he 
said  to  himself,  half  contemptuously.  "  They're 
offering  shoddy  goods  —  cheap  and  nasty.  They 
get  the  trade  that  has  to  have  cheap  stuff,  and 
can't  care  how  nasty  it  is  as  long  as  it  is  cheap. 
But  that  girl,  now  —  I'm  going  to  keep  my  eyes 
on  her  —  " 

Out  of  the  very  disgust  that  had  repelled  him 
at  first  he  began,  now,  to  get  fresh  inspiration. 
If  things  were  wrong,  if  chances  were  being  over- 
looked by  these  people,  who,  after  all,  had  ac- 
complished a  great  and  conspicuous  success,  didn't 
that  mean  that  his  opportunity  was  all  the  greater? 
[49] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


If  Jim  Hazzard,  with  such  methods  underlying 
his  business,  had  been  able  to  make  a  fortune  in 
five  years,  why  shouldn't  another  man,  profiting 
by  Hazzard's  mistakes,  make  a  greater  one? 

It  wasn't  a  standardized  business  he  wanted  to 
break  into  —  what  he  needed  was  a  chance  to  be 
a  pioneer,  as  his  father  had  been  before  him.  He 
began  to  see  the  analogy,  to  understand  a  little 
better  some  of  the  things  Hazen  had  said.  And 
this  was  much  more  nearly  a  virgin  field  than  the 
one  his  father  had  tilled  with  such  great  results. 
Men  had  been  keeping  store  for  centuries,  but  it 
had  been  left  for  Lansing's  father  and  his  con- 
temporaries to  revolutionize  all  the  accepted 
methods  and  build  up  great  fortunes  by  doing  so. 
As  for  moving  pictures,  Hazzard  had  been  in 
that  business  for  five  years,  and  was  rated  one  of 
the  pioneers  —  while  a  man  who  could  go  back 
to  the  dim  beginnings,  in  the  late  nineties,  was 
already  an  historic,  almost  a  mythological,  figure ! 

He  watched  Haines  for  the  rest  of  the  day  with 
an  amused  sort  of  tolerance.  And  he  did  not  neg- 
lect the  girl  with  the  gray  eyes.  He  wondered  how 
Haines  could  fail  to  see  how  immeasurably  better 
than  his  leading  woman  was  this  almost  nameless 
[50] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


extra  girl,  who,  even  as  a  super,  sank  herself  for 
the  moment  into  the  character  she  was  playing. 
Lansing  couldn't  do  that  himself;  self-conscious- 
ness, or  something  of  the  sort,  made  it  impossible 
for  him  ever  to  enter  into  that  state  of  illusion. 

But  his  experience  in  amateur  theatricals  had 
taught  him  the  value  of  that  power,  as  well  as  its 
rarity.  He  knew  that  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  it 
constituted  the  one  great  difference  between  ama- 
teur and  professional.  But  he  was  glad  Haines 
didn't  see  the  girl's  value.  She  was  beginning  to 
figure  vaguely  in  even  vaguer  plans  that  were 
forming  in  Lansing's  mind.  When  Dick  made 
him  write  down  his  name  and  address,  at  the  end 
of  the  day's  work,  in  a  big  book  in  the  office,  he 
took  the  chance  to  glance  at  the  girl's  entry. 

Mary  Brewster  she  was  called.  She  lived  far 
uptown  in  New  York.  As  soon  as  he  was  alone 
he  wrote  down  name  and  address. 


CHAPTER  V 

NO  lad  apprenticed  in  a  medieval  guild  ever 
learned  a  trade  more  thoroughly  than  Lan- 
sing learned  the  new  business  of  the  movies  in  the 
weeks,  fast  growing  into  months,  that  followed 
his  first  contact  with  the  actual  making  of  a  pic- 
ture on  top  of  the  Palisades.  Not  for  many  days 
did  he  go  back  to  Haines;  meanwhile  he  had 
worked  as  an  extra  under  almost  every  director 
of  the  colony  that  centered  in  Fort  Lee.  Then  he 
took  a  long  jump  and  saw  the  wholly  different 
methods  in  use  in  California,  where,  instead  of 
making  exterior  sets  for  camera  work  under  glass 
and  vacuum  lights,  the  most  elaborate  interiors 
were  set  up  outdoors,  and  every  picture  was  made, 
from  start  to  finish,  in  the  clear,  even  sunshine  of 
the  coast. 

He  improved  as  an  actor  inevitably;  any  one 
would  have  done  that.  He  won  praise  from 
directors,  and  more  than  one  offer  of  a  real  job, 
with  a  place  on  the  pay  roll.  But  the  glamour 
of  the  work,  though  it  threatened  to  hold  him 
[52] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


more  than  once,  never  quite  obscured  his  realiza- 
tion that  behind  the  studios,  behind  the  autocratic 
directors,  behind  the  actors  who  were  beginning  to 
emerge  from  the  anonymity  of  the  earlier  films, 
there  were  big,  dominating  figures  like  that  of 
Jim  Hazzard.  It  was  those  men  who  were  creat- 
ing the  industry  who  appealed  to  him  most;  he 


sought  eagerly  for  every  crumb  of  information  as 
to  their  rise,  delighting  in  the  constant  proof  of 
the  opportunities  they  had  seen  and  seized. 

The  new  industry,  still  in  the  pinafore  stage, 
had  its  sagas  already.  It  had  no  written  history, 
but  everywhere  Lansing  found  men  to  tell  him  the 
things  that  the  historian  of  the  future  will  record. 
He  heard  of  the  first  timid  steps,  when  two  funda- 
mental inventions,  that  of  the  celluloid  film  and  of 
the  still  rather  mysterious  camera,  with  its  sprocket 
[531 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


mechanism  that  made  the  rapid  motion  of  the  film 
possible,  had  enabled  Edison  and  the  Biograph 
pioneers  to  make  the  first  crude  pictures. 

In  those  early  days  motion  had  been  enough. 
Audiences  had  cheered  in  startled  wonder  at  the 
sight  of  a  moving  train,  a  crowd  walking  along  a 
street,  a  galloping  horse.  It  was  with  such  pic- 
tures, he  heard,  that  J.  Stuart  Blackton  and  Albert 
E.  Smith,  then  doing  the  stock  tricks  of  magicians 
in  vaudeville,  had  made  their  start.  They  made 
their  first  pictures  themselves,  on  the  roof  of  an 
old  building  in  Nassau  Street,  and  got  a  young 
real-estate  broker,  named  William  T.  Rock,  to 
finance  their  first  experiments.  He  needed  no  one 
to  tell  him  that  those  three  were  now  the  owners 
of  the  great  Vitagraph  Company  —  one  of  the 
undisputed  leaders  of  the  industry. 

Everywhere  the  men  with  the  long  memories 
harked  back  to  the  epoch-making  year  of  1903, 
when  E.  S.  Porter,  of  the  Edison  Company,  pro- 
duced the  first  real  motion-picture  drama  —  the 
famous  "  Great  Train  Robbery."  In  that  picture, 
for  the  first  time,  a  real  story  was  developed  and 
told  on  the  film,  acted  out  by  real  actors.  And 
after  that  —  the  beginning  of  the  deluge.  He 

[54] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


heard  that  in  Los  Angeles,  from  an  actor  who  had 
been  in  the  films  since  the  beginning,  and  was  glad 
now  to  get  extra  work  two  or  three  times  a  week. 

"And,  my  boy  —  here's  a  coincidence,"  said 
the  actor.  He  pointed  to  a  lean,  sharp-faced  man, 
with  piercing  eyes,  that  let  no  passer-by  escape 
their  scrutiny.  "  Do  you  see  that  man?  That's 
Anderson  —  Broncho  Billy  1  " 

Lansing  was  interested  at  once.  He  had  heard 
of  the  man  who  had  first  made  the  cowboy  films 
popular,  with  a  vogue  that  carried  them  clear 
around  the  world. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  the  actor  went  on,  "  that's  Broncho 
Billy  —  G.  M.  Anderson,  the  A  of  Essanay  — 
S  an' A  —  see?  Nerve!  My  boy,  if  I'd  had  his 
nerve  I'd  be  a  millionaire  today!  He  was  in  that 
film  I  was  telling  you  about  —  '  The  Great  Train 
Robbery.'  And  afterward  he  acted  a  lot.  He  got  to 
know  how  the  pictures  ought  to  be  made,  you  see. 
So  he  got  a  hunch.  And  he  went  out  to  Chicago 
and  dug  up  a  fellow  he'd  known  a  long  time,  G.  K. 
Spoor.  Spoor,  he  was  making  eye-glasses  and 
things,  just  in  a  small  way.  Nice  little  business  he 
had  —  salting  away  a  thousand  a  year,  I'd  guess. 

"  Well,   Anderson  filled  him  up   full  of  this 

[55] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


moving-picture  game,  and  got  him  excited.  So 
Spoor  put  up  the  money  and  they  started  Essanay, 
with  Spoor  to  run  the  business  and  Anderson  to 
see  to  the  pictures,  and  act  in  'em,  too,  in  his  cow- 
boy parts.  I  guess  you  know  the  money  they're 
making  today. 

"  Nerve !  That's  the  thing  that's  built  this  busi- 
ness up,  my  friend.  There's  C.  J.  Hite  —  Hite, 
of  Thanhouser.  Heard  of  him,  haven't  you? 
Well,  he  was  running  a  lunch  room  in  Chicago. 
He  started  one  of  the  first  independent  exchanges 
—  with  his  hat  for  an  office,  from  all  I  hear. 
Rented  films  out  to  the  little  theaters,  that  the 
big  trust  exchanges  wouldn't  do  business  with  at 
all.  Gave  up  his  lunch  room  —  and  that  left  Paul 
Davis  out  of  his  job  as  a  waiter.  But  Paul  didn't 
bear  any  hard  feelings  to  Hite  —  and  proved  it,  a 
bit  later.  Paul  got  a  job  with  some  big  m3n  in 
Chicago,  and  later  on,  when  Hite  got  a  chance  to 
buy  old  man  Thanhouser  out,  he  met  this  fellow 
Davis,  looking  prosperous,  and  told  him  of  his 
chance,  and  the  money  he  needed  to  snatch  it.  So 
Paul  got  his  boss  to  put  up  a  hundred  thousand 
dollars  for  Hite  to  play  with !  Hite's  on  his  way 
to  his  million  today." 

[56] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


It  seemed  to  Lansing  that  there  was  some  such 
story  about  every  man  who  had  risen  to  the  top. 
And  about  these  stories  there  was  one  striking 
point  of  similarity.  Every  one  seemed  to  hinge  on 
the  fact  that  its  hero  had  looked  ahead,  had  seen 
the  great  days  that  were  coming,  and  had  risked 
everything  on  his  vision.  They  had  all  had 
nerve.  Sigmund  Lubin,  in  Philadelphia,  giving  up 
his  life  work  in  middle  age  —  like  Spoor,  he  had 
been  a  maker  of  optical  instruments  —  had  put 
himself  and  all  his  capital  into  the  new  business 
and  reaped  a  great  harvest.  Carl  Laemmle,  aban- 
doning a  tailor  shop  in  Milwaukee,  had  opened 
a  nickel  theater  in  Chicago,  and  gone  on  from 
step  to  step  until  he  had  built  up  the  Universal 
corporation,  controlling  half  a  dozen  brands  of 
films  and  exchanges  all  over  the  country,  in  open 
rivalry  of  what  all  movie  men  called  the  trust. 

He  got  the  chronicle  of  Jim  Hazzard,  too. 
Hazzard  appealed  to  many  as  he  did  to  Lansing, 
to  whom  he  seemed  a  true  figure  of  romance,  un- 
romantic  as  was  his  personal  appearance.  He 
heard  what  Hazen  had  already  told  him;  that 
Hazzard,  five  years  or  so  before,  had  been  the 
owner  of  a  Chicago  saloon.  In  connection  with 
[57] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


his  saloon,  he  had  had  a  summer  garden.  And, 
to  attract  patronage  to  this,  he  had  taken  to  show- 
ing films,  getting  old,  worn  prints  that  he  could 
rent  cheaply. 

The  response  of  his  trade  had  startled  him, 
and  he  had  seen  at  once  that  what  he  intended 
as  an  advertisement  was  bigger  than  the  thing 
he  wanted  to  advertise.  Unhesitatingly  he  had 
sold  his  business,  grinning  at  the  loss  he  had  to 
bear,  and  plunged  into  the  business  of  the  pic- 
tures. He  tried  to  build  up  an  exchange  busi- 
ness; found  that  the  trust  made  such  terms  that 
there  was  no  profit  left  for  him,  and  began,  in  a 
small  way,  to  make  films  that  he  could  distribute 
on  his  own  terms.  One  thing  led  to  another;  he 
found  himself,  before,  perhaps,  he  quite  realized 
what  he  was  doing,  in  active  opposition  to  the  trust 
—  made  up,  it  may  be  well  to  explain,  of  the 
companies,  now  grouped  together,  that  worked 
under  a  license  from  the  owners  of  the  basic 
camera  patents. 

Lansing,  studying  the  rise  of  Hazzard,  found 
himself  always  at  a  loss  to  know  whether  his  suc- 
cess was  due  to  genius  or  a  sublime  sort  of  luck; 
everything  Hazzard  had  done  had  been  so  in- 
[58] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


evitable  a  result  of  something  that  had  gone 
before.  The  great  Western  Company  itself  was 
simply  Hazzard's  answer  to  the  decree  of  the 
trust  that  his  exchanges  must  handle  only  trust 
films. 

So  now  three  great  rivals  were  fighting  for  con- 
trol of  the  industry.  Only  in  the  Western  group 
could  Lansing  see  the  domination  of  an  individ- 
ual; the  trust  and  the  other  great  independent 
group  lacked  personality,  since  they  had  no  Haz- 
zard.  They  had  plenty  of  commanding  figures, 
but  Hazzard  still  remained  in  a  class  by  himself. 
That,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  was  because  he  ap- 
pealed more  especially  to  Lansing's  instinct  for 
organization.  He  wasn't  as  good  a  film  man  as  a 
score  of  lesser  figures.  Lansing,  indeed,  knew 
more,  as  a  result  of  his  study  of  the  business, 
than  did  Hazzard  himself  of  the  details  that  were 
vital  in  the  actual  conduct  of  affairs. 

His  California  visit  put  the  finishing  touches  on 
Lansing's  self-education.  He  went  East  with  the 
feeling  that  he  knew,  now,  as  much  as  he  needed 
to  enable  him  to  plunge  into  the  business.  And 
yet,  as  fast  trains  carried  him  homeward,  he  was 
as  far  as  ever  from  making  up  his  mind  as  to  how 

[59] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


to  go  in.  He  wanted  to  lead,  not  to  follow ;  above 
all,  he  wanted  to  be  independent.  And  it  seemed 
to  him  that,  despite  the  youth  of  the  industry,  he 
was  too  late  to  achieve  either  of  those  desires 
very  fully.  What  was  there  to  be  done  that  had 
not  been  done  already?  Things  might  be  better; 
there  was  an  almost  unlimited  opportunity  for  im- 
provement. But  all  a  newcomer  could  do,  after 
all,  was  to  make  pictures.  And,  as  to  independ- 
ence —  when  he  had  made  them  they  had  to  be 
marketed. 

They  had  to  reach  the  public  —  and  the  public 
sat  before  the  screens  of  innumerable  theaters, 
which  got  their  films  from  the  big  exchanges, 
which  were  under  control  of  one  or  the  other  of 
the  great  groups.  His  thinking  was  circular;  he 
reminded  himself,  as  he  tried  to  work  out  his 
problem  on  the  train,  of  a  dog  chasing  his  own 
tail.  He  was  pretty  low-spirited,  indeed.  It 
was  one  of  those  periods  of  discouragement  and 
distrust  of  self  that  most  men  experience.  He 
abused  himself.  He  remembered  his  bitter  self- 
condemnation  after  the  failure  of  Lansing's  and 
the  things  that  he  knew  had  been  said  about  him. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  he,  in  that  first  bitter 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


and  sharp  fit  of  passionate  regret  for  the  time 
he  had  wasted,  and  the  friends  of  his  father  who 
had  sneered  at  him,  had  been  wholly  right.  His 
sudden  interest  in  moving  pictures  wasn't  a  symp- 
tom of  acute  and  intelligent  ambition,  somewhat 
belated  in  its  manifestation,  but  only  the  sort  of 
reflex  action  that  can  be  produced  in  any  creature, 
even  a  mule,  by  a  well  directed  and  unexpected 
kick.  Of  course,  the  Lansing  failure  had  stirred 
him  up.  But  to  what  end?  He  knew  all  about 
the  moving-picture  industry  now  —  or  thought  he 
did.  And  what  good  did  that  do  him?  He  saw 
no  way  to  apply  his  knowledge.  The  opportuni- 
ties that  had  beckoned  so  plainly  to  Laemmle  and 
Hite,  Hazzard  and  Blackton,  might  still  be  pres- 
ent. But  he  couldn't  see  any  of  them.  And  so, 
for  him,  they  didn't  exist. 

He  was  in  the  grip  of  that  despondent  mood 
when  he  got  to  Chicago.  His  train  was  late,  and 
he  missed  his  New  York  connection.  That  was 
chance,  pure  and  simple ;  a  whim  of  fate,  or  what- 
ever you  choose  to  call  it.  So  was  part  of  what 
followed. 

There  was  no  reason  for  Lansing  to  be  in  a 
hurry  to  reach  New  York,  and  he  derided  to 
[61] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


spend  a  day  or  two  in  Chicago,  where  there  were 
friends  he  had  not  seen  for  a  long  time.  He  got 
to  his  hotel  about  midnight;  the  first  face  he  saw 
in  the  lobby  was  that  of  Hazen,  the  lawyer,  who 
had  been  the  first  to  point  Jim  Hazzard  out  to 
him.  There  was  nothing  remarkable  about  this. 
Hazen's  practice  took  him  all  over  the  country. 
He  greeted  Lansing  with  great  friendliness,  and 
then  as  he  took  in  his  appearance  smiled,  rather 
quizzically. 

Lansing  had  changed  a  good  deal  since  his  last 
meeting  with  Hazen.  The  change  had  begun  be- 
fore he  had  gone  West,  manifesting  itself  in  a 
certain  indifference  to  things  that  had  formerly 
seemed  important.  Lansing  had  been  the  pride 
of  a  fashionable  tailor.  Now  he  wore  a  suit  that 
most  obviously  hadn't  renewed  its  acquaintance 
with  a  pressing  iron  for  many  days,  and  that 
hadn't  profited  as  a  result.  His  shoes  were  dusty; 
his  hat,  a  .soft,  slouchy  panama,  would  have 
shocked  his  ex-valet.  He  looked  bigger,  too.  He 
had  filled  out;  his  shoulders  were  broader  and 
straighter.  And  his  face  and  hands  had  been 
burned  to  a  rich  golden  brown  by  the  California 
sunshine.  Hazen,  noting  the  change,  and  grop- 
[62] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


ing  mentally  to  describe  it,  got  the  exact  word. 
Lansing  looked  more  American. 

"  Thank  heaven!  "  said  Lansing.  "  Have  you 
got  anything  to  do?  " 

"  I've  got  to  go  to  bed,"  said  Hazen,  with  a 
smile. 

"  Wrong !  You've  got  to  split  a  Welsh  rabbit 
or  a  lobster  with  me  and  tell  me  if  Broadway  's 
still  lighted  up  at  night.  You've  got  to  —  oh, 
just  talk  to  me !  I've  been  on  the  ragged  edge  of 
all  the  world  for  weeks." 

"  It's  agreed  with  you,"  said  Hazen  dryly. 
"  Been  making  a  fortune?  I  noticed  symptoms  of 
trying  to  do  that  when  I  saw  you  last." 

Lansing  would  have  flushed  if  his  coat  of  tan 
had  not  forbidden  it. 

"  Don't  talk  about  me,"  he  said.  "  I'm  a  poor 
topic  —  and  I'm  sick  of  myself,  anyhow.  What's 
new  in  New  York?  " 

Hazen  talked  gossip  for  a  few  minutes  —  and 
saw  that  Lansing's  eyes  wandered.  Hazen  hadn't 
acquired  his  commanding  position  in  the  law  with- 
out wisdom  and  perception;  he  found  it  a  little 
hard  to  suppress  a  chuckle. 

"Seems  pretty  small,  doesn't  it?"  he  said 
[63] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


sympathetically.  "  But  it's  as  important  as  it 
ever  was  to  your  friend  Brangwyn  and  the  rest 
of  them." 

He  had  put  his  finger  on  the  spot,  and  Lansing 
knew  it.  He  was  at  loose  ends.  Hopelessly  out 
of  touch  with  the  life  he  had  led  before  the 
Lansing  smash,  he  had  nothing  to  take  hold  of 
now. 

"  You  were  interested  in  Jim  Hazzard,  weren't 
you?  "  said  Hazen,  seemingly  at  random.  "  He's 
in  a  peck  of  trouble." 

"Trouble?  How?"  said  Lansing,  startled. 
One  might  almost  have  seen  him  prick  up  his 
ears. 

"  He's  likely  to  lose  control  of  Western  Film. 
Haven't  you  heard  that  he's  been  fighting  with 
Cramer  and  Howell?  " 

"  I  heard  he  was  trying  to  force  them  out,"  said 
Lansing.  "  But  —  hasn't  he  got  control  ?  That's 
the  general  impression." 

"  He  had  it  —  just  as  long  as  Dave  Sears  was 
alive,"  said  Hazen.  "  Sears  was  his  original 
partner  —  Cramer  and  Howell  came  in  later.  He 
got  them  when  he  had  to  have  real  money,  and 
it's  always  been  the  eighth  wonder  of  the  world 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


that  those  two  pirates  put  up  the  cash  without 
getting  fifty-one  per  cent  of  the  stock.  I  guess,  if 
the  truth  were  known,  Jim  managed  to  fool  them 
some  way  —  or  else  they  found  out  that  some  one 
else  was  ready  to  put  up  the  money  if  they  didn't. 
And  then,  again,  they  may  have  thought  they 
could  handle  Sears,  who  had  just  enough  stock  to 
swing  the  balance  between  them  and  Hazzard. 
Now  Sears  is  dead  —  and  Hazzard  can't  buy  his 
stock." 

Lansing's  indifference  had  vanished.  He  was 
sitting  up  now,  alert  and  keenly  interested. 

"  How  do  you  know?  "  he  asked  sharply. 

"  Because  I  happen  to  be  counsel  for  Mrs. 
Sears,"  the  lawyer  answered.  "  There's  no  secret 
about  it  —  a  hundred  men  know  the  facts.  Old 
Dave's  will  provided  that  his  stock  should  be  sold 
—  I  guess  he  understood  that  a  woman,  without 
any  business  training,  needed  something  safer  than 
Western  Film  as  an  investment.  And  it  gave  Haz- 
zard first  chance  to  buy  the  stock,  with  a  time 
limit." 

"  Well  —  didn't  he  snap  at  it?  "  asked  Lansing. 

"  Yes  —  the  way  a  dog  snaps  at  a  bone  that's 
just  beyond  his  reach  when  he's  chained  up.  He's 

[65] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


half  crazy.  But  Cramer  and  Howell  have  got  him 
this  time  —  and  if  he  put  anything  over  on  them 
before,  they're  getting  good  and  even  now.  I 
told  you  Hazzard  was  rated  at  a  million  and  a 
half.  And  he  hasn't  been  able  to  raise  fifty  thou- 
sand in  cash  —  which  is  what  he's  got  to  have  to 
get  that  stock.  His  time's  up  tomorrow  —  at 
noon.  Today,  that  is." 

Lansing  sat  back  and  stared. 

"  And  that  means  that  the  other  two  will  get 
it?" 

"  Not  a  doubt  in  the  world.  They  haven't  been 
near  me  yet.  But  they're  safe  enough.  No  one 
would  buy  that  stock  except  themselves  —  or  Haz- 
zard, of  course.  And  they've  seen  to  it  that  he's 
helpless.  They've  got  Wall  Street  connections, 
and  their  own  ways  of  keeping  a  man  from  getting 
hold  of  money  if  he's  likely  to  interfere  with 
them  in  using  it.  '  And  Hazzard's  tied  up.  He's 
the  sort  of  man  who  won't  let  a  dollar  stay  idle. 
A  dollar  in  cash  to  him  is  just  a  basis  of  two 
dollars  in  credit." 

"  You're  handling  the  Sears  stock?  "  exclaimed 
Lansing. 

"  Yes  —  as  executor.  That's  why  I'm  here. 
[66] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Selling  that  will  wind  up  the  estate,  and  his  will 
was  filed  here  for  probate." 

"  If  Cramer  or  Howell,  or  both  of  them,  had 
come  to  you  and  asked  for  an  option,  in  case  Haz- 
zard  didn't  exercise  his,  you'd  have  given  it  to 
them?" 

"  I  wouldn't  have  had  any  choice.  The  will 
leaves  me  no  latitude  about  that  stock." 

Lansing  took  a  dollar  bill  from  his  pocket  and 
laid  it  on  the  table  between  them. 

"  A  dollar  's  consideration  enough  in  an  option, 
isn't  it?  "  he  said.  "  Give  me  that  option.  I  be- 
lieve I  can  do  as  much  with  that  stock  as  any  one 
else.  With  what  I've  got  already  it  means  some- 
thing. And  —  I'm  ready  to  risk  fifty  thousand 
dollars  on  my  hunch." 

Hazen,  astonished  for  once  in  his  life,  and  un- 
able to  hide  it,  stared  at  him. 

"You're  crazy!  "  he  said.  "You  can't  graze 
in  that  pasture,  Bob!  You'd  be  a  little  white, 
woolly  lamb  in  a  pack  of  wolves !  You  haven't  got 
enough  money  to  sit  in  that  game." 

But  Lansing's  eyes  were  snapping,  and  his 
mouth  had  tightened  into  a  straight,  hard  line. 

"  I'm  making  a  bona-fide  offer,"  he  said.  "  You 

[67] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


say  yourself  you've  got  no  right  to  refuse  it.  And 
you're  not  looking  out  for  my  interests  —  your 
business  is  to  sell  that  stock." 

He  got  his  option.  Hazen  stopped  with  the 
one  remonstrance;  he  recognized,  somehow,  the 
futility  of  further  protest.  And  Lansing,  with  his 
hat  at  a  disgraceful  angle,  left  the  hotel,  whistling, 
and  sought  the  nearest  telegraph  office  that  was 
open  all  night.  At  the  counter,  he  composed  a 
long  and  explicit  telegram  to  his  New  York  bank. 
It  contained  none  of  the  customary  telegraphic 
abbreviations.  Lansing  determined  to  leave  no- 
room  for  error,  since  he  desired  a  credit  of  fifty 
thousand  dollars  in  Chicago  well  before  noon. 
Noon  in  Chicago  is  one  o'clock  in  New  York;  that 
gave  a  little  more  time  for  whatever  formalities 
might  be  necessary.  He  was  thankful  for  the  fore- 
sight that  had  led  him  to  make  arrangements, 
before  he  left  New  York,  for  just  such  an  emer- 
gency need  of  money.  When  he  had  done  so,  to 
be  sure,  he  had  contemplated  nothing  more  than 
a  possible  accident,  making  the  ability  to  draw  a 
few  hundred  dollars  quickly  desirable.  But,  the 
arrangements  once  made,  it  was  as  easy  to  get 
fifty  thousand  as  a  hundred. 
[68] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


For  the  first  night  in  a  week  or  more  of  severely 
critical  self-examination,  Lansing  went  to  sleep 
almost  as  soon  as  his  head  touched  the  pillow. 
For  good  or  evil,  he  had  taken  the  same  sort  of 
plunge  that  men  like  Hazzard  and  Laemmle  had 
taken.  Like  them,  he  had  glimpsed  an  oppor- 
tunity and  had  had  the  nerve  to  seize  it.  He 
might  be  right  or  wrong.  Only  the  future  could 
disclose  that.  And  about  the  future  he  refused 
to  worry.  He  had  made  his  start! 


[69] 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  Whitestone  Hotel  looked  like  a  moving- 
picture  headquarters  next  morning.  Lan- 
sing, finishing  his  coffee  before  nine  o'clock,  sat 
back  and  grinned  to  himself  at  the  entrance  of 
Hazzard.  The  big  man  drew  all  eyes  to  himself, 
as  he  always  did.  He  couldn't  help  it;  Lansing 
guessed  that  on  this,  of  all  days,  he  didn't  want 
to  do  so.  But  he  couldn't  modify  his  bulk;  seem- 
ingly he  couldn't  tone  down  the  roar  of  his  voice, 
either.  And,  if  he  was  worried,  his  appetite  ap- 
peared to  be  unaffected.  A  dyspeptic  individual 
at  the  next  table  turned  a  little  paler  at  the  sight 
of  Hazzard's  breakfast:  fruit,  cereals,  chops, 
eggs,  bacon,  a  steak  —  pot  after  pot  of  coffee. 
Lansing,  waiting  for  a  telegram,  stayed,  with  his 
cigar,  to  enjoy  the  sight  —  and  got  a  little  more 
in  the  way  of  entertainment  than  he  had  bargained 
for. 

He  was  not  far  from  Hazzard,  who,  of  course, 
didn't  know  him.  And  the  sight  of  the  great  veins 
in  the  big  man's  forehead,  swelling  up  until  they 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


turned  to  an  ominous  purple,  was  his  first  warning 
that  something  strange  was  happening.  A  mo- 
ment later  he  understood,  as  a  waiter  ushered  two 
men,  immaculate  in  summer  garb  of  New  York, 
to  another  near-by  table.  Howell  and  Cramer! 


riazzQTa  drew 
all  eyes  to  himself 


They  saw  Hazzard;  feigned  surprise  and  nodded 
cordially  to  him.  Both  were  small,  dapper  men; 
both  had  shifty  eyes,  that  refused  to  linger  any- 
where long  enough  for  an  observer  to  look  through 
them.  Aside  from  that,  though,  they  had  noth- 
ing in  common.  Yet  both  had  the  predatory  look. 
And  they  couldn't  quite  conceal  their  contempt 
for  Hazzard  and  his  swelling,  apoplectic  rage. 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Enough  food  to  have  fed  most  men  for  a  day 
still  remained  at  Hazzard's  place.  Perhaps  the 
sight  of  his  enemies  did  finally  curb  his  appetite, 
or  he  might  simply  have  overestimated  his  needs. 
At  any  rate  he  heaved  himself  up  from  his  chair 
and  moved  ponderously  toward  their  table.  Lan- 
sing leaned  forward.  Howell  and  Cramer  were 
uneasy,  but  they  held  their  ground.  He  saw 
Howell,  who  was  facing  Hazzard  as  he  ap- 
proached, say  something;  a  greeting,  he  guessed, 
though  he  couldn't  hear.  Hazzard  didn't  speak. 
He  moved  on,  came  to  rest  at  last,  with  his  great 
hands  on  the  table,  which  bent  and  swayed  be- 
neath his  weight.  For  a  full  minute  he  stared  at 
the  pair.  Lansing  could  see  them  wilt.  Again 
Howell  said  something.  And  then  Hazzard 
moved  his  hands,  lowered  his  head  menacingly. 

"  Bah!  "  he  roared,  and  turned  away. 

A  laugh  ran  around  the  room.  Even  the  waiters 
joined  for  a  moment.  Little  thrills  chased  up  and 
down  Lansing's  spine.  There  was  something 
superb  about  Hazzard's  elemental  wrath,  about 
his  supreme  contempt  for  these  men  who  had 
beaten  him.  He  took  his  defeat  hard,  but  he  took 
it  as  a  boy  might  have  taken  it,  with  a  fine,  unso- 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


phisticated  disregard  for  the  convention  that  calls 
for  a  seeming  indifference  to  such  a  blow.  Yet 
there  was  nothing  boyish,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
something  incredibly  menacing,  about  his  eyes  — 
something  that  spoke  eloquently  of  his  confidence 
that  another  day,  another  chance,  were  coming 
to  him. 

Hazzard  was  gone.  Something  electric,  tonic, 
went  out  of  the  room  with  him.  It  left  Howell 
and  Cramer  looking  amazingly  cheap  and  small 
and  tawdry.  They  tried  to  perk  up  at  once,  to 
laugh  at  the  man  who  had  scorned  them  so.  But 
they  couldn't  do  it.  Lansing,  any  one  else  who 
chose  to  look  at  them,  could  see  what  a  mockery 
it  was.  They  were  disconcerted,  furiously  angry, 
at  Hazzard,  at  themselves,  at  one  another.  In 
less  than  a  minute  they  were  arguing  viciously 
together.  Lansing  smiled.  He  took  out  his  op- 
tion, read  it  through,  and  smiled  again.  As  he 
went  out  into  the  lobby  he  passed,  deliberately, 
the  table  where  they  sat.  They  didn't  look  like 
powerful  men,  men  who  had  been  able  to  beat 
the  mighty  Jim  Hazzard.  But  he  knew  their 
power,  and  he  wondered  what  his  relation  with 
them  was  going  to  be  when  they  knew  the  truth. 

[73] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


They  ignored  him,  of  course.  He  meant  no  more 
to  them  than  the  waiter  who  poured  their  coffee. 
It  amused  Lansing  to  think  of  the  pure  chance  that 
had  thrown  him  into  their  path  —  the  accident  of 
a  missed  train  that  had  led  to  his  meeting  with 
Hazen. 

They  had  laid  their  plans  well  and  worked  their 
will  against  Hazzard  with  a  diabolical  sort  of 
cleverness  —  he  read  that  between  the  lines  of 
what  Hazen  had  told  him.  And  now  he,  an 
utter  stranger,  an  insignificant  atom  among  a  hun- 
dred million  atoms  as  remote  from  them  and  their 
affairs  as  he  had  been  yesterday,  had  taken  a  hand. 
Chance,  of  course,  pure  chance  —  but  there  had 
been  no  chance  about  his  determination  to  get  that 
option.  There  is  a  point  in  any  series  of  events 
where  chance  must  give  way  to  an  act  of  will. 
That  is  something  that  the  people  who  attribute 
all  the  successes  of  life  to  chance  —  and  all  the 
failure,  too  —  are  prone  to  forget. 

The  answer  to  his  telegram  of  the  night  came 
while  he  stood  in  the  lobby;  he  caught  the  bell  boy 
at  the  first  call  of  his  name.  It  was  brief  and  to 
the  point,  and,  of  course,  affirmative.  And  he 
became  busy  immediately.  At  the  bank  there  was 

[74] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


red  tape  to  be  unwound.  But  he  succeeded  in 
proving  that  he  was  Robert  Lansing,  and  it  was 
only  a  little  after  eleven  o'clock  when  he  left  the 
bank,  carrying  the  equivalent  of  fifty  thousand 
dollars  in  negotiable  paper  in  the  same  envelope 
that  contained  his  option.  There  was  still  time 
for  him  to  draw  back;  he  did  not  have  to  exercise 
his  option.  But  the  thought  of  withdrawing  now 
had  not  occurred  to  him  for  a  moment.  All  he 
wanted  now  was  to  close  the  deal  and  catch  the 
first  train  for  New  York.  He  had  planned  that 
far  ahead;  he  wanted  more  time  for  thought 
before  he  dealt  with  either  Hazzard  or  his 
opponents. 

He  found  Hazen,  at  half  past  eleven,  twiddling 
his  thumbs  metaphorically  in  a  Chicago  lawyer's 
office. 

"  Sit  down  and  wait  —  if  you're  still  determined 
to  make  an  ass  of  yourself,"  said  Hazen.  "  Haz- 
zard's  gone  back  to  New  York  —  cleared  out  an 
hour  ago.  By  Jove,  I  admire  the  old  cutthroat! 
He  came  here  to  play  his  last  card  —  lost  —  and 
wouldn't  wait  for  the  finish.  Nine  men  out  of  ten 
would  have  hung  around  till  the  thing  was  settled. 
He's  the  tenth." 

[75] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Lansing  told  him  of  the  incident  in  the  restau- 
rant, and  Hazen  laughed. 

"  Just  like  him,"  he  said.  "  I  tell  you,  I'd  hate 
to  beat  him.  It  would  be  too  much  like  winning 
the  first  round  in  a  tussle  with  a  buzz  saw.  You'd 
get  it  all  the  worse  when  you  came  back.  By  the 
way,  I've  been  trying  to  puzzle  out  your  idea. 
If  you  think  you  can  hold  those  fellows  up,  make 
them  bid  against  one  another  for  that  stock,  for- 
get it.  You'll  be  like  the  man  who  interferes 
between  husband  and  wife  when  they're  fighting. 
They'll  all  turn  on  you.  They'd  think  nothing  of 
joining  forces,  squeezing  you  out,  and  then  start- 
ing a  new  fight  among  themselves  after  they'd 
got  rid  of  you." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,"  said  Lansing.  "  I  saw  that 
last  night  when  I  was  wondering  why  no  one  else 
had  tried  to  get  the  stock  just  to  sell  it  to  them. 
But  that's  not  my  idea  at  all.  I  want  to  sit  in  this 
game,  that's  all.  Getting  this  stock  is  like  buying 
a  stack  of  chips.  I'm  going  to  stick  around." 

"  All  right  —  you're  of  age,"  said  Hazen.  He 
looked  at  his  watch.  "  I'll  close  the  whole  thing 
at  noon.  Hazzard  can't  exercise  his  option,  but 
it's  as  well  to  be  careful  about  technicalities.  I'm 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


not  supposed  to  know  he's  out  of  it  until  twelve 
o'clock." 

They  fell  into  a  thoughtful  silence.  Lansing 
was  making  his  plans;  Hazen  was  studying  him, 
seeing  more  and  more  a  resemblance  to  his  father 
that  had  never  struck  him  before.  A  boy,  knock- 
ing at  the  door,  interrupted  their  reverie. 

"  Mr.  Cramer  and  Mr.  Howell,  to  see  Mr. 
Hazen,"  he  said. 

Lansing  got  up,  but  Hazen  rose,  too. 

"  Sit  down,"  he  said.    "  I'll  see  them  outside." 

He  left  the  door  ajar,  and  in  a  moment  Lansing 
heard  Howell's  thin,  low  voice,  with  its  caressing 
note. 

"  I  suppose  we  can  do  business  with  you  now, 
Hazen,  in  the  matter  of  the  Sears  stock  in  West- 
ern Film,"  he  said. 

"  No,"  said  Hazen  quietly.  "  I  have  every 
reason  to  suppose  that  the  holder  of  an  option 
will  exercise  his  right." 

"  An  option !  "  Howell's  voice  rose  to  a  high 
squeak.  "  Jim  Hazzard  hasn!t  been  able  to  put 
that  over  —  " 

"  I  didn't  say  it  was  Hazzard."  Hazen's  voice 
grew  calm  and  low  in  pitch. 

[77] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Some  one  closed  the  door,  and  after  that  Lan- 
sing heard  only  exclamations,  meaningless  frag- 
ments of  sentences.  It  was  over  very  soon; 
Hazen,  flushed  and  angry,  rejoined  him. 

"  Infernal  crooks !  "  he  growled.  "  They  think 
I've  gone  in  with  Hazzard  against  them!  Well 
—  they  can  think  so.  Time's  up !  Have  you 
brought  the  money?  " 

Lansing  laid  down  his  drafts.  Afterward  he 
was  amused  at  the  simplicity  of  the  whole  trans- 
action. Within  five  minutes  he  walked  out  to  the 
elevator,  the  owner  of  a  small,  but  amazingly  im- 
portant, interest  in  Western  Film.  In  the  lobby 
of  the  building,  he  came  upon  Cramer  and  Howell, 
in  the  thick  of  a  furious  quarrel,  that  involved  a 
vast  amount  of  sputtering  and  gesticulation.  Nei- 
ther spared  him  a  glance.  He  ran  no  risk  of 
detection  when  he  turned  and  smiled  at  them. 
Some  of  the  busiest  men  in  Chicago  found  the  time 
to  be  amused  by  their  violence. 


->rO 


CHAPTER  VII 

IT  must  be  admitted  that  Lansing, 
when  he  reached  New  York  after 
breaking  his  way  into  Western  Film, 
felt  Napoleonic.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  he  had  done  a  big  thing.  He  had 
put  Hazzard  under  a  great  obligation 
to  him,  though  Hazzard  didn't  know  it  yet.  By 
virtue  of  his  small,  but  important,  stock  holding, 
he  could  demand  and  obtain  a  voice  in  the  affairs 
of  the  corporation.  Hazzard,  he  was  sure,  would 
have  to  make  him  a  director  —  probably  an  officer. 
And  that  would  give  him  a  chance  to  put  some  of 
his  ideas  into  practice.  He  felt  that  he  could  revolu- 
tionize the  whole  moving-picture  industry.  With- 
out having  worked  out  the  details,  he  had  in  his 
mind  a  sort  of  picture  of  the  future,  in  which  he 
was  to  be  responsible  for  the  product  of  Western 
Film,  the  pictures  themselves,  while  Hazzard  ap- 

[79] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


plied  his  genius  to  financing  and  to  the  marketing 
of  the  films. 

But  if  there  is  any  proverb  that  has  held  its 
own  through  the  changes  of  the  centuries  it  is  the 
one  that  has  to  do  with  the  fall  that  is  always 
lying  in  wait  for  pride,  and  the  destruction  that 
trips  up  a  haughty  spirit.  Lansing's  spirit  wasn't 
exactly  haughty,  perhaps.  But  he  had  traveled, 
mentally,  a  long  road  since  the  mood  of  self- 
deprecation  had  left  him. 

After  allowing  what  seemed  to  him  a  decent 
interval  to  elapse,  following  the  transfer  of  his 
stock  on  the  books  of  the  Western  Film,  without 
receiving  the  overtures  he  expected  from  either 
Hazzard  or  Hazzard's  opponents,  Lansing  went 
to  see  Hazzard.  And  his  first  shock  came  when 
he  waited  for  more  than  an  hour  in  the  reception 
room  of  the  big,  ornate  office  on  Broadway.  A 
good  many  others  were  waiting,  too;  actors  and 
actresses,  all  sorts  of  active  film  workers,  passed 
in  and  out. 

He  sat  within  sight  of  Hazzard's  door;  the  big 

man's  roaring  voice  identified  it  for  him.    And  his 

resentment,  which  grew  and  flourished  in  the  last 

half  hour  of  his  detention,  was  by  no  means  molli- 

[80] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


fied  when  he  saw  Cramer  emerge,  in  his  shirt 
sleeves.  He  had  imagined  a  state  of  open  war 
between  Hazzard  on  the  one  side,  and  Cramer 
and  Howell  on  the  other.  He  had  yet  to  learn 
of  the  swift  adjustments  of  business  quarrels;  of 
the  surprising  readiness  of  such  enemies  to  bury 
the  hatchet  —  when  both  sides  can  make  money, 
or  save  it,  by  doing  so.  His  self-confidence  was 
shaken  ever  so  slightly  when  he  was  finally  ush- 
ered into  Hazzard's  room.  And  it  wasn't  restored 
by  the  look  he  received  from  Hazzard.  The  big 
man  looked  at  his  card. 

"Well,  sir?"  he  said.  "What  can  I  do  for 
you?  " 

"I  —  it  seemed  to  me  we  ought  to  have  a  talk, 
Mr.  Hazzard,"  Lansing  ventured  uncertainly. 
"I  —  I  suppose  you  know  that  I  have  acquired 
some  stock  in  the  Western  Film  Corporation?  " 

"  Have  you?  "  asked  Hazzard.  "  I  should  say 
it  was  a  good  investment;  I  have  quite  a  holding 
myself." 

"  And  you  tried  to  get  this  stock  of  mine,"  said 
Lansing.  He  was  beginning  to  get  angry.  "  That's 
why  it  seemed  to  me  we  ought  to  have  a  talk." 

"  Oh!  "  said  Hazzard.  He  laughed.  And  then 
[81] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


he  became  suddenly  the  very  incarnation  of  men- 
ace. His  whole  expression  changed,  and  he  leaned 
forward,  his  teeth  bared.  "  I  think  I'm  on  to 
you,  my  friend!  "  he  said.  "  Well  —  you  can  go 
to  Cramer  and  Howell  I  You'll  get  nothing  out 
of  me  1  I  don't  want  your  stock  — .wouldn't  take 
it  at  ten  cents  on  the  dollar!  If  you'd  looked  me 
up  you'd  have  found  I  was  a  poor  man  to  hold 
up!" 

"  My  stock  isn't  for  sale,"  snapped  Lansing. 
"  I  bought  it  to  keep,  not  to  sell !  If  you're  trying 
to  bluff  me,  quit  it!  I  know  all  about  the  way 
things  stand  here.  My  stock  carries  control,  and 
I  know  it!  If  I  vote  with  you,  you've  got  a  ma- 
jority—  if  I  swing  to  Cramer  and  Howell,  they 
have.  I  came  here  to  tell  you  I  was  willing  to 
work  with  you  —  under  certain  conditions." 

Hazzard  looked  surprised  for  a  moment.  Then 
he  began  to  laugh,  and  his  mirth  shook  him  and 
roused  the  echoes  of  the  room. 

"  You'd  like  to  be  the  tail  that  wags  the  dog  — 
with  your  little  block  of  stock!  "  he  said  finally. 
"  Where  do  you  get  that  stuff?  Take  your  stock 
home  and  frame  it!  It's  dead  —  it's  out  of  the 
way  —  see?  You've  run  up  against  business  men, 
[82] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


son,  and  I  guess  we'll  get  along  without  your  help. 
You  took  that  stock  out  of  the  market  when 
you  bought  it.  You  don't  cut  any  more  ice  than 
any  one  else  who  might  happen  to  buy  up  a  few 
stray  shares.  You  don't  want  to  believe  every 
story  you  see  in  the  papers  —  especially  in  the 
moving-picture  trade  papers.  They've  started  a 
fight  in  Western  Film  about  every  six  weeks  since 
we  organized  the  company,  but  you'll  notice  that 
business  is  still  being  done  at  the  old  stand." 

"  All  right!  "  said  Lansing.  "  You  don't  have 
to  talk  business  if  you  don't  want  to.  But  I'm  not 
depending  on  anything  I've  seen  in  the  papers.  I 
know  how  you'd  stand  now  if  Cramer  and  Howell 
had  got  hold  of  the  stock  I  bought.  I  know 
what  the  people  who've  got  stock  control  can  do 
to  a  corporation  without  going  to  jail.  I  came 
here  to  make  a  friendly  arrangement  with  you  — 
and  if  you  haven't  got  any  more  sense  than  to  try 
bluffing  me  I'll  wait  till  you  come  to  your  senses." 

Again  it  must  be  admitted  that  Lansing  felt  a 
due  sense  of  his  own  importance.  His  anger  had 
banished  the  chastened  mood  that  had  been  in- 
duced by  Hazzard's  reception  of  him.  One  reason 
for  this  was  that  he  simply  couldn't  believe  that 
[83] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Hazzard  had  made  up  his  quarrel  with  Cramer 
and  Howell.  He  stalked  out,  with  the  echo  of 
Hazzard's  great  laughter  in  his  ears.  But  he  had 
sense  enough  not  to  take  his  anger  and  his  stock 
to  the  other  side.  He  had  a  wholesome  fear  of 
Cramer  and  Howell;  he  felt  that  they  were  too 
adept  in  the  tricks  of  high  finance  to  make  them 
safe  associates. 

Hazzard's  treatment  of  him  had  dealt  a  severe 
blow  to  Lansing's  pride.  But  his  confidence  in 
the  strength  of  his  own  position  was  not  severely 
shaken. 

"  He's  so  used  to  dealing  with  four-flushers  and 
the  cheap  Broadway  crowd  that's  hanging  on  to 
the  movie  business  that  he  puts  every  one  else  in 
their  class,"  he  decided. 

And  so  he  wrote  to  Hazzard,  generously  over- 
looking the  treatment  he  had  received,  and  ex- 
plained his  ideas  more  fully  than  he  had  been  able 
to  do  in  their  one-sided  conversation.  Hazzard's 
answer  was  prompt  —  and  brief.  He  wrote  that 
directors  were  elected  at  the  annual  meeting  of  the 
stockholders,  of  which  notice  would,  in  due  course, 
be  mailed  to  Lansing,  at  the  address  credited  to 
him  on  the  company's  books.  Meanwhile,  any 
[84] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


proper  questions  that  Lansing,  as  a  stockholder, 
might  choose  to  ask  would  be  answered  by  the 
proper  officer. 

And  before  Lansing  had  absorbed  the  full  ef- 
fect of  that  letter  he  received  another,  signed  by 
Howell,  as  secretary  of  Western  Film  —  a  brief 
communication,  informing  him  that  the  directors 
had  decided  to  pass  the  semi-annual  dividend. 
Increased  expenses,  the  necessity  for  establishing 
a  reserve  fund,  and  a  decision  to  spend  a  good  deal 
of  money  for  the  construction  of  new  studios  were 
advanced  as  the  reasons  for  this  action. 

No  mention  was  made,  however,  of  another 
reason  that  supplied  Broadway  with  gossip.  At 
least  one  trade  paper  said,  without  actually  men- 
tioning names,  that  that  same  meeting  of  the 
Western  Film  directors  had  voted  increases  of 
salary  to  Hazzard,  Cramer,  and  Howell  that 
more  than  made  up  to  them  for  the  passed  divi- 
dend. This  rumor  proved  as  easy  to  confirm,  to 
all  practical  intents  and  purposes,  as  it  was  hard 
to  prove.  Hazen,  moreover,  assured  Lansing 
that  the  directors  were  strictly  within  their  legal 
rights.  And  he  proved  his  title  to  Lansing's 
friendship  by  refraining  from  any  reminder  of 

[85] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


the  warning  he  had  given  him,  in  Chicago,  against 
the  purchase  of  Western  Film  stock. 

Lansing,  in  spite  of  his  mistaken  notion  con- 
cerning his  power,  was  no  fool.  He  had  the 
quality  of  facing  facts  without  blinking.  And 
when  he  took  stock  of  the  situation  he  saw  it 
exactly  as  it  was.  Hazzard  had  chosen  to  enter 
into  an  alliance,  more  or  less  permanent,  with 
Cramer  and  Howell,  for  the  purpose  of  freezing 
him  out.  The  next  step  might  easily  be  a  receiver- 
ship, a  reorganization,  undertaken  simply  to  make 
it  impossible  for  him  to  hold  his  stock.  He  had 
very  little  pride  or  self-satisfaction  left  when  he 
reached  that  conclusion. 

But  he  still  had  his  uncompromising  jaw.  And 
there  was  a  fighting  gleam  in  his  eyes.  Perhaps 
he  was  going  to  lose  the  fifty  thousand  dollars  he 
had  put  into  his  purchase  of  a  hand  in  the  big 
game.  But  it  would  be  after  a  fight  —  and  he 
was  prepared,  if  it  should  be  necessary,  to  throw 
what  money  he  had  left  after  his  first  investment. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ENSING  didn't  avail  himself  of  Hazzard's 
kind  invitation  to  ask  questions.  Or,  at 
least,  he  didn't  ask  them  of  the  officials  of  West- 
ern Film.  He  obtained  an  election,  instead,  to 
the  Screen  Club,  then  beginning  to  become  in- 
fluential and  important  in  the  moving-picture 
world.  Here  he  met  men  who  were  in  touch  with 
moving  pictures  on  all  sides.  Actors,  directors, 
publicity  men,  officials  of  various  companies,  all 
met  on  common  ground  in  the  club.  And,  most 
important  of  all  for  Lansing's  purpose,  it  was  the 
chief  haunt  of  keen-eyed  young  men  who  repre- 
sented the  trade  papers  of  the  movies. 

These  men  were  omniscient.  They  knew  every- 
thing about  every  company  in  the  industry.  For 
their  papers  they  gathered  news  and  advertising. 
For  themselves  they  gathered  information,  recog- 
nizing that  as  the  greatest  asset  they  could  have. 
Much  of  it  they  kept  to  themselves.  Very  little 
of  the  best  news  they  obtained  ever  got  into  print. 
But,  properly  approached,  they  would  emit  bits  of 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


gossip,  of  scandal,  that  threw  a  vivid  and  highly 
interesting  light  upon  what  was  going  on  behind 
the  screen,  so  to  speak. 

One  thing  impressed  Lansing  mightily.  It  was 
an  attitude  that  seemed  to  be  shared  by  almost 
every  one  he  met  in  the  club,  an  attitude  of  pro- 
found contempt  for  the  public. 

"They'll  stand  for  anything!"  said  Debrett, 
who,  at  thirty,  was  dean  of  the  trade  press. 
"  There's  no  such  thing  as  the  moving-picture 
business.  It's  not  a  business  —  it's  a  charity.  The 
people  have  got  to  have  their  pictures  —  that's 
all.  They're  mad  about  the  films.  There  never 
was  such  a  business.  The  fanniest  baseball  fan 
that  ever  was  isn't  in  it  with  a  movie  fan. 

"  The  public  takes  any  kind  of  a  raw  deal  the 
manufacturers  hand  it  and  comes  back  crying  for 
more.  They  stand  for  fake  posters.  They  don't 
care  how  raw  a  fake  is." 

"  That  won't  last,"  said  Lansing.  "  And  1  be- 
lieve there's  more  money  in  giving  the  public  a 
square  deal,  even  the  way  things  are  now,  than  in 
faking." 

"  There  isn't  —  you're  wrong,  and  that's  the 
answer,"  said  Debrett.  "  Some  of  the  old  com- 
[88] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


panics  are  on  the  level  now,  and  they're  not  mak- 
ing half  the  money  the  fakers  are.  It's  just  like 
the  royalty  game;  on  the  patents.  The  licensed 
companies  are  paying  big  money  to  the  holders  of 
the  original  patents.  Some  of  'em  started  doing 
it  without  even  being  sued,  like  the  Kalem  outfit. 
And  a  gang  of  independents  come  along  and  don't 
pay.  No  one  stops  'em.  There's  just  so  much 
velvet  for  them." 

"  It  sounds  well,"  said  Lansing  stubbornly. 
"  But,  just  the  same,  I  believe  the  big  money's 
still  to  be  made  in  this  game.  And  I  think  the 
man  who  finds  out  what  the  public  really  wants, 
and  supplies  it,  is  going  to  make  it,  too.  This 
movie  industry  's  still  in  its  wildcat  days.  It's 
booming.  But  there's  a  big  smash  coming  if  the 
boomers  don't  look  out." 

Debrett  grinned.  The  story  of  Lansing's  in- 
vestment in  Western  Film  was  an  open  secret 
along  Broadway  by  this  time.  And  Debrett 
thought,  of  course,  that  Lansing  was  calling  the 
grapes  he  hadn't  been  able  to  reach  sour.  Debrett, 
in  his  cynicism,  simply  reflected  the  atmosphere  in 
which  he  lived  and  had  his  being.  Not,  of  course, 
that  there  weren't  honest,  sincere  men  engaged  in 
[89] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


the  manufacture  and  distribution  and  exploitation 
of  films.  Debrett  himself  had  admitted  that  there 
were.  But  at  this  time,  if  these  were  not  actually 
in  the  minority,  they  were  obscured  by  the  others, 
who  were  getting  the  big  money.  The  plodders 
got  as  little  attention,  as  little  publicity,  as  does  a 
conservative,  old-fashioned  bank,  for  instance, 
during  the  meteoric  rise  of  mushroom  institutions 
in  a  period  of  expansion.  Lansing  thought  of  that 
comparison.  And  he  remembered  that  when  the 
last  panic  had  come  it  was  the  old-line  banks  that 
had  saved  the  day,  while  the  spectacular  growths 
of  boom  times  had  collapsed.  He  didn't  take 
Debrett  very  seriously.  But  he  absorbed  what  the 
writer  could  tell  him. 

And  it  was  a  hint  from  Debrett  that  ended  his 
inactivity  at  last,  after  weeks  in  which  he  had 
chafed  at  his  inability  to  find  a  means  of  getting 
at  the  imperturbable  Hazzard. 

"  Something  doing,"  Debrett  told  him  one  day. 
"  The  patents'  people  are  getting  ready  to  start 
something." 

"What?     It's  pretty  late  in  the  day  for  in- 
fringement suits,  isn't  it?     And  I  thought  that 
was  all  pretty  well  settled,  anyhow." 
[90] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Debrett  winked  at  him. 

"  So  it  is  —  theoretically,"  he  said.  "  If  you 
believe  all  you  hear,  you'll  believe  that  Western 
Film  isn't  using  an  infringing  camera  —  hasn't 
used  one  for  two  years.  Keep  your  eyes  open  — 
that's  all.  Something  coming  off,  all  right." 

That  gave  Lansing  an  idea.  But  it  was  luck, 
chance,  whatever  you  please  to  call  it,  that  showed 
him  the  way  to  use  his  idea.  He  spent  some  time 
every  week  in  the  studio  on  top  of  the  Palisades 
that  had  seen  his  initiation  into  the  movies.  As  a 
stockholder,  he  had  some  rights  there,  and  Haines, 
the  director,  liked  him,  anyhow,  and  was  inde- 
pendent enough  to  give  him  the  freedom  of  the 
place.  One  day  he  was  talking  to  Haines  when 
Cramer  came  in.  Cramer  eyed  him  with  veiled 
hostility  and  nodded.  Haines  greeted  Cramer 
curtly;  he  was  whole-heartedly  on  Hazzard's 
side,  and  took  little  stock  in  the  armistice. 

Cramer  stayed  for  two  hours.  He  arrived  dur- 
ing the  interval  Haines  allowed  for  luncheon,  and 
when  that  was  over,  watched  the  making  of  a  few 
scenes.  At  intervals  he  asked  questions.  How 
much  did  such  an  actor  get?  What  was 
the  wastage  of  film?  Couldn't  it  be  reduced? 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Was  it  necessary  to  keep  the  great  batteries  of 
lights  in  action  so  constantly?  Wasn't  a  lot  of 
time  wasted  in  rehearsing  a  scene  five  or  six 


times? 


He  had  a  perfect  right  to  ask  these  questions. 

Lansing   knew    that,    and    knew,    too,    that    he 

shouldn't   be   surprised   at   seeing   Cramer  here. 

But  he  was.     He  couldn't  help  wondering  how 

[92] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


soon  Cramer  would  reveal  the  secret  purpose  that 
had  brought  him  over.  He  had  formed  his  esti- 
mate of  Cramer  long  since.  And  it  was  that  the 
man  was  constitutionally  crooked;  that  he  would 
rather  take  the  devious,  twisted  path  any  time 
than  the  obvious,  straight,  short  cut;  that  he 
wasn't  capable  of  being  loyal.  And  now,  in 
Cramer's  manner,  there  was  something  furtive. 
While  he  was  engaged  in  the  most  innocent  action 
he  would  look  over  his  shoulder,  as  if  he  expected 
to  be  spied  upon.  Lansing  had  an  intense  con- 
viction that  Cramer  was  asking  all  his  questions, 
making  all  his  examinations  of  trivial  things,  so 
that  those  who  saw  him  wouldn't  know,  after  he 
had  gone,  what  it  was  that  he  had  really  come  to 
find  out. 

So  Lansing  started  when,  after  Cramer  had 
gone  over  the  whole  studio,  he  came  to  rest  finally 
beside  Steve  Carter,  the  camera  man,  and  started 
asking  questions.  Lansing  unobtrusively  edged 
over  toward  them,  catching  Carter's  disgusted  grin 
on  the  way. 

"  Chap  around  the  other  day  said  he  had  a  new 
camera,"  said  Cramer.  "  Couldn't  talk  to  him  — 
didn't  want  to  admit  how  little  I  knew  about  the 

[93] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


thing.  How  does  it  work  —  eh?  Show  me  how 
the  wheels  go  round." 

Carter  winked  at  Lansing;  then  launched  into 
an  involved  and  technical  explanation.  Cramer, 
in  spite  of  his  confessed  ignorance,  asked  no  ques- 
tions now.  He  listened  intently,  and  seemed  to 
understand  the  explanation,  and  to  find  it  per- 
fectly clear  —  though  Lansing  knew  that,  with- 
out some  fore-knowledge  of  the  subject,  he 
couldn't  have  done  that.  The  explanation  lasted 
while  a  set  was  being  made;  at  the  sharp  call  of 
"  Camera !  "  from  Haines,  when  that  work  was 
done,  Cramer  melted  away  unobtrusively. 

To  Lansing,  who  chose  to  follow  him,  and  to 
cross  the  river  with  him,  it  seemed  not  without 
significance  that  Cramer,  once  he  reached  New 
York,  went,  as  fast  and  as  straight  as  a  taxicab 
could  take  him,  not  to  the  Western  offices,  but  to 
those  of  a  firm  of  lawyers  who  represented  the 
licensed  interests.  He  didn't  get  out  of  his  own 
taxi  when  Cramer  alighted;  instead,  he  told  his 
driver  to  drive  him  through  the  park,  unmindful 
of  the  extravagance  of  the  proceeding.  He 
wanted  to  think. 

And  the  products  of  his  thinking  sent  him  to 

[94] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Hazzard  that  night.  He  had  no  proof  worthy  of 
the  name.  But  he  had  what  is  likely,  in  the  right 
hands,  to  be  just  as  useful,  a  deep-seated  convic- 
tion that  his  suspicions  were  well  founded.  And 
his  suspicions  Went  back  to  the  old  fixed  idea  that 
had  taken  him  to  Hazzard  in  the  beginning.  He 
was  as  little  able  to  believe  now  as  he  had  been 
then  that  Cramer  and  Howell  were  prepared  to 
abandon  their  fight  for  the  control  of  Western 
Film.  And  it  was  certain  that,  if  he  were  right, 
they  had  a  weapon  now  that  promised  to  be  as 
effective  as  the  one  he  had  snatched  from  their 
hands  in  Chicago.  His  argument  was  a  process 
of  elimination,  but  it  was  one  that  looked  plausible 
to  him. 

He  had  seen  Hazzard  many  times  since  his 
formal  call  upon  him;  on  a  few  of  the  rare  occa- 
sions when  Hazzard  showed  himself  in  the  Screen 
Club  rooms,  very  often  in  restaurants,  where  a 
great  deal  of  the  really  important  business  of  the 
movie  world  was  conducted.  Hazzard  always 
recognized  him ;  seemed  to  make  it  a  point,  in- 
deed, to  greet  him  with  a  contemptuous,  amused 
tolerance.  Lansing  had  writhed  once  or  twice 
under  those  greetings,  when  Hazzard  had  nodded 

[95] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


to  him,  and  then  turned,  with  his  great  laugh,  to 
his  companions,  evidently  pointing  him  out. 

So  he  knew  where  to  find  Hazzard,  once  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  go  to  him.  The  third 
restaurant  he  dropped  into  proved  to  be  the  right 
Dne;  Hazzard  was  there,  with  three  or  four  men 
Lansing  knew  by  sight.  He  gave  Lansing  the 
usual  greeting  —  and  looked  curious,  even  inter- 
ested, when  Lansing,  instead  of  looking  quickly 
away,  smiled  back  at  him.  Two  or  three  times 
more  in  the  next  few  minutes  he  stole  a  look  at 
Lansing,  who,  by  attention,  was  able  to  meet  his 
eyes,  so  that  Hazzard,  with  what  would  have  been 
confusion  in  any  ordinary  man,  shifted  his  gaze. 

Hazzard's  companions  dropped  off  one  by  one. 
Others  took  their  places.  It  was  Hazzard's  way 
to  hold  a  sort  of  court.  All  sorts  of  propositions 
were  made  to  him  at  these  night  sessions.  He 
liked  this,  and  encouraged  the  practice.  It  catered 
to  a  curious  sort  of  vanity,  and  there  was  a  prac- 
tical reason,  too.  He  could  always  plead  that 
necessary  data  were  in  his  office;  that  he  must 
have  time  to  consult  them.  In  this  new,  curious 
business,  so  like  a  growing  child,  many  men  ap- 
peared with  suggestions  on  which  they  demanded 

[96] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


instant  action.  Hazzard  was  often  glad  of  a  good 
excuse  to  put  them  off  and  still  keep  them  at  his 
disposal.  And  so,  though  he  was  extremely  hard 
to  reach  in  his  office,  at  night  he  was  accessible  to 
anyone  who  chose  to  walk  up  to  his  table  and 
introduce  himself. 

It  was  nearly  midnight  when  Lansing  observed 
signs  of  a  breaking  up  of  Hazzard's  table.  At 
once  he  paid  his  check;  he  was  on  his  way  to  the 
door  when  Hazzard,  roaring  for  his  waiter,  signed 
his  own  collection  of  checks,  and  rose.  Lansing 
stopped  to  buy  a  cigar;  he  reached  the  sidewalk  a 
step  ahead  of  the  big  man. 

"  Buying  automobiles  with  your  Western  Film 
dividends?  " 

Hazzard's  great  voice  boomed  in  his  ear.  Lan- 
sing turned  around. 

"  Oh,  hello  —  going  home  so  early?  "  he  said. 
"  Well,  I  should  think  you  need  some  sleep." 

"Huh?  What?"  said  Hazzard.  "What 
d'ye  mean,  young  fellow?  " 

"  Oh  —  nothing,"  said  Lansing.  "  But  you've 
got  some  busy  days  ahead  of  you,  I  guess." 

"Busy  days?  What's  eating  you  now?  All 
my  days  are  busy." 

[97] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Lansing  walked  on,  quickening  his  pace  a  little. 
Purposely  he  turned  into  a  side  street,  though  he 
knew  that  Hazzard's  path  lay  straight  up  Broad- 
way. Hazzard,  as  he  had  expected,  followed  and 
overtook  him. 

"  Well,  I  hope  you  win  out  —  that's  all,"  said 
Lansing  finally.  "  I  guess  my  Western  stock's 
worth  something  now,  even  if  it  isn't  paying  divi- 
dends. But  if  this  infringement  suit  gets  going 
right  and  they  tie  you  up  with  an  injunction  — 
well,  it  wouldn't  be  worth  the  frame  you  advised 
me  to  buy  for  it." 

Hazzard's  hand  fell  on  his  shoulder  and  spun 
him  around  under  a  street  light.  Hazzard  glared 
at  him.  But  when  he  spoke  his  voice  was  soft, 
gentle,  almost  a  purr. 

"  What's  that?  "  he  asked.  "  What  d'ye  mean 
—  infringement  suit?" 

"  You  must  know  as  much  about  it  as  I  do," 
said  Lansing.  "  After  all  you  know,  you  can't 
expect  to  keep  on  using  a  camera  that's  a  rank 
infringement  of  the  basic  patents  forever.  You're 
bound  to  be  called  sooner  or  later." 

"  You've  been  hitting  a  pipe,"  said  Hazzard. 
"  Our  camera's  not  an  infringement.  I'll  bet  you 
[98] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


can't  name  a  single  thing  that  even  looks  like  an 
infringement." 

"  I  think  I  can,"  said  Lansing  modestly.  He 
tried  to  keep  his  excitement  out  of  his  voice.  For 
this  was  the  crucial  moment.  He  had  to  bluff 
now,  and  the  success  of  his  whole  plan  depended 
upon  his  ability  to  handle  Hazzard  —  a  man  who 
was  reputed  to  understand  more  of  the  art  of 
poker,  as  it  is  played,  with  and  without  cards,  than 
any  man  in  New  York. 

He  had  refreshed  his  memory  before  begin- 
ning his  search  for  Hazzard.  And  now,  in  an- 
swer to  Hazzard's  taunt,  he  described  from  mem- 
ory, not  the  camera  used  in  Western  studios,  but 
the  original,  licensed  camera.  As  he  did  it,  Haz- 
zard's jaw  dropped.  Then  suddenly  he  swore. 

"  No  one  was  supposed  to  know  that,"  he  said 
furiously.  "  I'll  break  someone  for  letting  it 
out  —  " 

"  You  can't  blame  anyone  for  telling  Cramer 
about  it.  He's  entitled  to  ask  as  many  questions 
as  he  likes,  I  suppose.  You  even  said  I  was  —  " 

"  Cramer!  "  said  Hazzard.  And  at  his  tone, 
Lansing  knew  he  had  won  his  fight,  knew  that  his 
bluff  was  not  going  to  be  called. 

[99] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Yes  —  Cramer.  He  got  his  information  this 
afternoon.  And  it  may  interest  you  to  know  that 
he  stopped  at  Gaskell  &  Flood's  offices  after  he 
came  back  from  Fort  Lee." 

"Cramer!"  said  Hazzard  again.  "I  might 
have  known  they  wouldn't  play  fair." 

And  at  that,  seeing  the  iron  hot,  Lansing  struck 
quickly. 

"  My  offer  still  stands,"  he  said.  "  I'll  vote 
my  stock  with  you  in  any  action  you  take  against 
Cramer  and  Howell.  And,  for  an  emergency 
measure,  I'll  do  it  without  conditions.  We  can 
settle  those  later." 

Hazzard  hesitated  a  moment.  In  it  he  stared 
hard  at  Lansing. 

"  I  believe  you're  on  the  level,"  he  said  slowly, 
and  with  infinite  surprise.  "  And  —  by  George,  I 
know  you've  got  some  common  sense!  You've 
backed  the  right  horse  if  you  want  to  make  your 
stock  worth  something.  All  right,  my  son  —  I 
guess  you've  tipped  me  off  in  time  to  give  me  a 
chance  to  start  something.  Meet  me  at  the  Fort 
Lee  studio  tomorrow,  eight-thirty.  No  —  be  at  the 
office  at  eight,  and  I'll  run  you  over  in  my  car." 

"  Right !  "  said  Lansing.    "  Good  night" 
[  100  ] 


CHAPTER  IX 

HAZZARD,  when  Lansing  met  him  in  the 
morning,  was  in  a  silent  mood.  There  was 
a  very  brief  delay  at  the  big  office  building;  it 
served  for  the  sending  of  numerous  telegrams. 

"  Taking  no  chances,"  Hazzard  explained 
curtly.  "  I've  stopped  work  in  California  — 
everywhere  except  Fort  Lee.  Not  that  I  think 
they're  ready  to  attack  all  along  the  line,  but  they 
might  be.  Here  —  take  this." 

Lansing,  with  some  curiosity,  read  the  paper 
Hazzard  handed  him.  It  was  a  formal  notice  of 
a  special  meeting  of  the  stockholders  of  Western 
Film,  signed  by  Hazzard  as  president. 

"  Cramer  and  Howell  get  'em,  too,"  said  Haz- 
zard. "  And  the  people  who  hold  one  share  of 
stock  to  qualify  them.  All  right  —  we're  off." 

Hazzard  drove  himself,  and  they  crossed  the 
long  Weehawken  ferry  in  a  high-powered,  low- 
bodied  runabout.  As  they  sat,  well  up  in  the  bow 
of  the  boat,  Lansing  looked  northward  and  saw, 
through  the  haze  that  hung  over  the  river,  the 
[10!] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


slow  progress  of  one  of  the  uptown  boats.  Haz- 
zard  chafed  at  the  slow  pace  of  the  ferryboat; 
but,  once  they  were  landed,  he  made  amends  for 
that.  His  car  swung  up  the  hill  very  fast,  and, 
once  they  were  on  the  level  road  that  crowned  the 
Palisades,  he  took  all  the  chances  possible  with 
the  speed  limit. 

The  studio,  when  they  reached  it,  presented  the 
aspect  of  a  fortified  camp.  A  good  deal  of  land 
went  with  it,  and  since  yesterday,  Lansing  saw, 
barbed  wire  had  been  stretched  about.  Quick 
work!  He  had  to  admire  the  way  Hazzard 
moved  when  he  once  started.  A  man  stood  by 
the  only  opening  in  the  wire  barrier,  and  he  re- 
fused to  let  them  pass  until  Haines  appeared. 
Lansing  chafed,  but  Hazzard  chuckled. 

"  The  man's  right,"  he  said.  "  It's  what  I'm 
paying  him  for.  If  he  keeps  me  out  he  won't  let 
other  people  in,  I  guess." 

None  of  the  actors  had  appeared  yet;  the 
studio  was  occupied  only  by  what  might  be  con- 
sidered now  a  permanent  garrison.  Haines,  Steve 
Carter,  the  camera  man;  Dunning,  who  looked 
after  the  properties  and  might  have  qualified  as 
purchasing  agent  for  a  railway  as  a  result  of  his 
[  102  ] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


experience;  Roddy  Thompson,  the  expert  who 
manipulated  the  lights,  and  three  broad-shouldered 
sceneshifters  were  on  the  job.  And  they  were  all 
busy.  Dunning,  who  as  props,  had  to  be  a  jack 
of  all  trades,  was  temporarily  a  chief  carpenter. 
Under  his  directions,  and  with  the  assistance  of 


The  iceneshiften 
were  building 
a  big  box 


his  skillful  hands,  the  sceneshifters  were  building 
a  big  box  —  a  sort  of  cross  between  the  crate  in 
which  a  piano  is  shipped  and  a  sentry  box. 

Lansing  felt  like  an  outsider.  Hazzard  drew 
Haines  aside,  and,  chuckling,  they  watched  the 
swift  growth  of  the  box.  It  had  a  door  on  one 
side,  but  no  bottom.  And  opposite  the  door  a 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


square  piece  was  cut  out,  hinged  and  put  back,  like 
a  window.  When  it  was  finished,  Dunning  looked 
at  it  approvingly,  then  proceeded  to  cover  it  with 
black  cloth.  Its  use  was  revealed  a  minute  later, 
when  the  all-important  camera  was  set  up  and 
covered  with  the  box.  Through  the  open  window 
the  lens  had  free  play;  behind  the  camera  there 
was  room  for  the  operator. 

"Right!"  said  Hazzard.  "Now  —  you  un- 
derstand, Haines  ?  Only  three  people  are  author- 
ized to  enter  that  box.  You,  Carter,  and  myself. 
No  one  else  on  any  pretext." 

"  Suppose  they  ring  in  a  sheriff,  with  some  sort 
of  court  order?  Does  our  pay  go  on  just  the 
same  in  jail?  " 

"  No  —  it's  doubled.  But  don't  let  anyone  get 
at  that  camera  —  sheriff  or  anyone  else !  " 

"  What's  the  idea?  "  asked  Lansing.  "  They 
must  have  the  facts." 

"  Maybe  Cramer  has,"  said  Hazzard.  "  But 
they've  got  to  have  more  proof.  And  I  doubt  if 
Cramer's  got  the  nerve  to  get  up  in  court  and 
testify  against  what  seem  to  be  his  own  interests, 
anyhow.  Bluffed  me  last  night,  didn't  you?  " 

"  Eh?  "  said  Lansing,  startled. 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  I  don't  mind  —  it  was  the  right  thing.  But 
I've  been  thinking  over  your  description  of  our 
camera.  You  got  the  basic  things  right,  but  it  was 
the  licensed  camera  you  described  in  detail.  Now 
you'd  better  tell  me  exactly  what  you  did  know. 
I'm  for  you  now  —  anyone  who  can  bluff  me  over- 
night I'm  going  to  have  on  my  side." 

Lansing  laughed,  and  told  him  the  whole  story 
truthfully.  From  time  to  time  Hazzard  nodded. 

"  All  right,"  he  said  briefly.  "  I  sized  you  up 
wrong.  Well  —  if  you  were  looking  for  trouble, 
son,  you  landed  right  where  old  man  Trouble  lives. 
I  think  we've  got  'em  stopped  for  the  time.  Un- 
less they  can  see  this  camera,  get  absolutely 
unshakable  expert  witnesses  to  give  technical  evi- 
dence of  an  infringement,  they  can't  do  much. 
They  can't  get  an  injunction  on  hearsay." 

"  Can't  you  work  without  an  infringing 
camera?  " 

"  Can't  be  done.  Their  patents,  if  they  stand, 
sew  up  the  whole  game,  give  'em  a  monopoly.  I 
don't  believe  they'll  stand.  I  think  they've  claimed 
too  much  —  like  Selden.  By  the  time  the  thing 
gets  up  to  the  supreme  court  we'll  have  them 
licked.  But  —  it's  no  time  to  be  tied  up  with  that 
[105] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


sort  of  litigation.  They've  got  the  bulge  right 
now,  if  we  get  into  court.  They've  got  the  money. 
We  haven't  —  not  where  we  can  get  at  it.  We've 
had  to  put  all  we  had  and  all  we  made  back  into 
the  business.  They're  past  that  stage,  and  they've 
got  the  banking  connections,  too,  that  we  haven't 
made  yet.  We're  running  on  a  cash  basis.  Ever 
stop  to  figure  our  pay  roll,  our  bills  for  film,  for 
printing,  for  expressage?  Cash  —  every  cent! 
We  can  show  a  balance  every  Saturday  night,  with 
all  bills  paid  for  that  week." 

"Hold  on!"  said  Lansing  suddenly.  "You 
know  the  facts  about  this  camera,  don't  you? 
What's  to  prevent  their  bringing  an  infringement 
suit,  nailing  you  as  a  witness,  and  holding  you  for 
contempt  if  you  refuse  to  answer?  " 

"  Nothing  —  if  they  get  me,"  said  Hazzard. 
"  That's  why  I'm  not  coming  back  here  for  a 
while." 

"  I  think  I'll  stick  around,"  said  Lansing. 
"  Looks  to  me  as  if  there  might  be  some  fun." 

"  I  expect  to  keep  you  busy,"  said  Hazzard 

grimly.     "  I'm  going  back  to  the  office  now.   You 

stay  here  —  and  then  come  over  on  the  ferry.     I 

don't  want  you  to  be  seen  with  me  just  yet.  When 

[106] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


you  come  to  the  office  ask  for  Brewer.  You'll  be 
taken  from  his  office  to  mine.  Understand?  " 

"Right!"  Lansing  nodded;  a  minute  later, 
Hazzard's  automobile  was  vanishing  in  a  cloud 
of  dust.  And  within  half  an  hour  the  studio,  save 
for  the  shrouded  camera,  had  assumed  its  normal 
busy  aspect.  Actors  and  actresses,  surprised  by 
the  barbed  wire,  the  mysterious  box,  were  rather 
pleased,  too.  Those  of  them  who  were  afflicted 
with  artistic  temperaments  enjoyed  the  mystery. 
And  Lansing  was  a  little  startled  when  a  girl  spoke 
to  him,  hailing  him  cordially  by  name.  Then  he 
remembered  her.  She  was  Mary  Brewster,  the 
extra  girl  of  his  first  day,  who  had  so  impressed 
him.  Since  then  she  had  impressed  others,  too; 
she  was  playing  a  part  now.  Haines  saw  him 
watching  her  as  she  worked  before  the  camera. 

"  There's  a  girl  with  a  future,"  he  said.  "  If 
she  gets  over  being  so  fresh.  You  can't  tell  her 
anything.  At  least  —  you  can  tell  her,  and  she 
listens,  and  does  just  what  you  say  in  rehearsal. 
And  then,  with  the  camera  turning,  she  does  just 
as  she  darn  pleases  and  says  she  forgot  or  thought 
it  would  look  better." 

"Well  —  does  it?"  asked  Lansing,  grinning. 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Most  of  the  time  —  yes,"  admitted  Haines. 
"  But  that's  not  the  point.  She's  supposed  to  do 
as  she's  told." 

"  She  never  will,"  said  Lansing.  He  looked  at 
her  thoughtfully.  "  The  trouble  with  her,  Haines, 
is  that  she's  meant  to  be  a  star.  Boost  that  girl  — 
advertise  her  everywhere  —  and  she'll  be  to  the 
films  what  Ethel  Barrymore  or  Maude  Adams  is 
to  the  legitimate." 

"  Tell  it  to  Sweeney !  "  scoffed  Haines.  "  And 
for  the  love  of  Mike  don't  let  her  hear  you.  Her 
head's  big  enough  now.  That's  the  trouble,  any- 
how. A  lot  of  these  people  are  getting  so  they 
think  they're  the  whole  thing.  Salaries  are  going 
up.  It's  all  wrong.  The  public  don't  care  who's 
in  a  film.  The  Biograph  people  have  the  right 
idea.  They  don't  let  the  public  know  who  their 
actors  are.  Keeps  their  people  from  getting  a 
swelled  head." 

"  You'll  wake  up  some  time,"  said  Lansing. 
"  I'll  bet  you  that  it  won't  be  long  before  you  see 
movie  stars  being  featured  just  like  Bernhardt  and 
Forbes-Robertson.  Go  on  with  your  slave  driv- 
ing. I'm  off  to  Manhattan." 

At  the  entrance  he  found  the  sentinel  firmly 
[10*] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


barring  the  entrance  of  two  men  who  couldn't 
account  for  themselves.  One,  immaculate,  keen- 
eyed,  stood  aside,  smiling  faintly.  The  other,  a 
shabby,  furtive  man,  was  doing  the  arguing.  Lan- 
sing, with  a  sudden  stirring  of  the  latent  detective 
instinct  in  him,  looked  at  his  watch.  A  car  was 
due  in  five  minutes.  The  last  one  had  arrived 
twenty-five  minutes  before.  How  had  these  men 
come  —  since  it  was  to  be  presumed  that  they  had 
only  just  arrived?  Halfway  down  the  hill  he 
stopped.  He  looked  down  the  road  that  led  to- 
ward Fort  Lee  and  Weehawken.  Perhaps  a  hun- 
dred yards  away  an  automobile  was  standing.  He 
made  his  way  over  a  stone  wall,  took  cover  in  an 
apple  orchard,  and  got  within  sight  of  the  car. 
In  the  tonneau,  smoking  a  cigar,  was  Cramer. 
That  settled  any  lingering  doubts  Lansing  might 
have  had. 

He  didn't  go  up  and  accuse  Cramer.  Instead, 
chuckling,  he  went  back,  caught  the  trolley  with  a 
swift  dash,  and  made  his  leisurely  way  back  to  the 
city.  He  had  no  fears  as  to  what  might  have 
happened  at  the  studio.  Carter  and  Haines,  he 
knew,  would  smash  the  camera  before  they  would 
let  any  unauthorized  person  see  it. 
[  109] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Getting  into  Hazzard's  office  proved  slightly 
difficult  and  highly  amusing.  Cramer,  of  course, 
wasn't  in  the  offices,  but  the  situation  was  compli- 
cated by  the  continued  presence  of  Howell.  How- 
ell's  door  was  open,  as  Lansing  saw  when  he  was 
conducted  into  the  room  of  Brewer,  Hazzard's 
secretary  and  confidential  man.  And  Howell,  in 
his  shirt  sleeves,  peered  at  him. 

"  Nice  mess !  "  said  Brewer  disgustedly.  "  The 
boss  is  afraid  to  curse  Howell  out,  even  —  it'd  be 
just  like  that  sneak  to  have  a  subpoena  ready  to 
hand  out!  Still,  there's  one  or  two  things  about 
this  floor  and  this  whole  building  that  Howell 
don't  know  yet." 

Lansing  discovered  the  truth  of  this.  In 
Brewer's  office  was  a  great  safe.  It  looked  as  if 
only  a  wrecking  crew  could  move  it.  But  Brewer 
lifted  a  rug  and  disclosed  a  little  arrangement  of 
rails;  on  these,  so  delicately  was  it  balanced,  the 
great  safe  moved  at  a  touch.  Moving,  it  dis- 
closed a  door,  which,  on  being  opened,  led  into 
Hazzard's  room.  Once  it  had  closed  behind  him, 
Lansing  couldn't  see  the  door  at  all. 

"  Did  you  have  this  doped  out  when  you  moved 
in  here?"  Lansing  asked  in  astonishment. 
[no] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Bet  your  life !  "  said  Hazzard.  "  Say  - —  they 
talk  about  the  way  Jay  Gould  and  Jim  Fisk  used 
to  dodge  process  servers.  I  bet  I've  got  them 
skinned  a  mile.  I've  known  a  good  many  times 
when  getting  away  from  a  subpoena  was  all  that 
kept  me  out  of  the  bankruptcy  court.  Sit  down." 

Hazzard  had  spread  certain  papers  out  on  his 
desk. 

"  I've  got  to  disappear,"  he  said.  "  I  guess 
you  know  it,  so  I  don't  mind  admitting  that  this  is 
the  tightest  corner  they've  had  me  backed  into 
yet.  I've  got  them  licked  at  that  —  but  I've  got 
to  have  the  time  to  do  it.  So  I'm  taking  to  the 
tall  timber  today  —  right  now.  You  and  Brewer 
have  got  to  swing  things  between  you  while  I'm 
gone.  Brewer'll  vote  my  stock  at  this  meeting 
that's  been  called  —  he's  got  my  proxy.  Here's 
everything  that's  to  be  done.  Read  those  notes 
and  see  if  you  get  it." 

As  he  obeyed,  Lansing  whistled.  And  he  put 
the  papers  down  with  a  nod  that  expressed  ad- 
miration and  surprise  together. 

"  Fighting  fire  with  fire,"  said  Hazzard.  "  I 
know  what  you're  going  to  say,  but  these  people 
haven't  got  clean  hands  to  go  into  court  with. 

[in] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


They'll  stand  the  gaff  because  they  can't  do  any- 
thing else.    All  right?" 

"  All  right,"  said  Lansing.  "  I'm  game." 
There  was  nothing  dignified  about  the  manner 
in  which  Hazzard  disappeared.  Brewer  went  be- 
fore him  to  clear  the  path,  which  led  to  the  roof. 
And  Lansing,  looking  for  excitement,  went  along. 
They  took  Tim  Riley,  the  gray-coated  special 
officer  of  the  building,  along.  And  Riley,  thor- 
oughly enjoying  his  part,  arrested  a  slinking  youth 
in  ill-fitting  clothes  for  loitering  on  the  roof.  The 
coast  proved  to  be  clear  on  the  next  roof  and  the 
next.  But  Lansing,  scrambling  from  one  to  the 
other,  had  to  smile  at  the  thought  of  how  Haz- 
zard would  look,  following  in  their  footsteps. 

He  wasn't  privileged  to  see  that.  For,  while 
Hazzard  was  making  his  get-away,  he  and  Brewer 
staged  a  little  comedy  downstairs.  They  went 
openly  into  Hazzard's  room  first,  with  Howell's 
eyes  following  them.  When  they  emerged, 
Brewer  carried  a  suit  case.  Lansing  hung  back 
long  enough  to  see  Howell  go  to  his  window. 
Then  he  joined  Brewer;  from  the  lobby  they  car- 
ried the  bag  to  Hazzard's  conspicuous  and  well- 
known  roadster.  At  a  word  from  Brewer,  the 

[112] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


chauffeur  started  the  engine,  and  the  secretary 
and  Lansing  looked  back  anxiously  at  the  revolv- 
ing doors  of  the  building.  Tim  Riley,  who  had 
disposed  of  his  captive  in  an  empty  room,  ap- 
peared suddenly,  shooing  all  loiterers  from  the 
lobby. 

A  seedy  man  got  between  Brewer  and  the  car. 
And,  at  just  about  that  moment,  Lansing,  looking 
up  the  street,  saw  a  taxicab  start  uptown.  From 
its  rear  window  a  handkerchief  was  waved. 

"  All  right,  Dick,"  he  said  to  the  chauffeur. 
"  Off  with  you  —  you  know  where  to  go." 

The  car  started.  The  seedy  man  exclaimed  as 
it  sent  him  spinning;  two  other  men,  who  had 
seemed  to  know  the  seedy  one,  sprang  into  a  taxi- 
cab  and  gave  chase.  Riley,  Lansing,  and  Brewer, 
grinning  broadly,  went  back  upstairs.  Brewer 
tried  Hazzard's  door  and  found  it  locked.  At 
his  elbow  Howell  appeared. 

"  I  want  this  nonsense  stopped,  Mr.  Brewer," 
he  said  in  his  high,  squeaky  voice.  "  I  demand 
that  Mr.  Hazzard  see  me  at  once." 

"  Mr.  Hazzard  isn't  in,  sir,"  said  Brewer  re- 
spectfully. "  I  think  —  er  —  that  is,  I  believe  he 
has  gone  out  of  town." 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Don't  lie  to  me!  "  said  Howell.  "  I've  been 
watching  his  door,  and  he  hasn't  gone  out." 

Silently  Brewer  unlocked  and  opened  the  door. 

"  See  for  yourself,  sir,"  he  said. 

The  room,  of  course,  -was  empty.  And  even 
Lansing  and  Brewer  didn't  know  where  Hazzard 
had  gone.  It  is  possible,  however,  that  Brewer, 
had  he  been  willing  to  do  so,  might  have  made  a 
good  guess.  He  had  had  time  to  become  familiar 
with  Hazzard's  methods. 


[H4] 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  first  two  or  three  days  after  Hazzard's 
flight  dragged  for  Lansing.  There  had 
been  the  little  interlude  of  excitement;  he  had  the 
tremendous  satisfaction  of  knowing  he  had  set  in 
motion  wheels  that  were  really  too  big  for  him  to 
push.  His  old  admiration  for  Hazzard  had  been 
sharply  reawakened.  But,  when  he  stopped  to 
think,  he  saw  that  he  hadn't,  after  all,  accom- 
plished very  much  for  himself.  It  was  true  that 
he  would  be  "  in  "  Western  Film  hereafter,  if 
Hazzard  beat  Howell  and  Cramer  and  their  allies. 
But  he  would  be  in  on  sufferance;  because  Haz- 
zard was  grateful  to  him,  or  had  decided  that  he 
would  make  a  good  cat's-paw.  At  best  he  would 
play  tail  to  Hazzard's  kite,  and  he  saw,  all  at 
once,  that  that  wasn't  at  all  what  he  wanted.  He 
might  conceivably  make  a  great  deal  of  money  as 
a  satellite  of  Hazzard  —  might  be  written  about 
at  some  future  time  as  the  millionaires  of  Pitts- 
burgh who  were  made  by  Carnegie  are  written 
about  now  in  the  Sunday  newspapers. 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


But  Lansing  didn't  want  to  play  sec- 
05  ond  fiddle  to  any  man.  He  went  back  to 
his  original  impulses,  and  found  that  he 
wasn't  in  the  way  of  obeying  them.  He  regretted 
nothing.  Everything  that  had  happened  since  the 
day  he  had  first  crossed  the  Fort  Lee  ferry  had 
added  to  his  experience.  And  now,  all  at  once, 
in  the  time  he  had  for  reflection  while  he  waited 
for  Hazzard  to  strike,  all  that  experience  crystal- 
izing,  came,  so  to  speak,  to  a  head.  A  good  many 
men  are  like  Lansing.  They  go  along,  listening, 
observing,  and  scarcely  knowing  themselves  that 
they  are  doing  so.  Then,  all  at  once,  they  find 
themselves  with  complete  conception  of  whatever 
it  is  they  have  been  studying.  There  is  no  other 
[116] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


way  of  accounting  for  the  sudden  rise  of  certain 
baseball  players,  who,  from  seemingly  hopeless 
mediocrity,  become  stars  between  October  and 
April. 

So,  all  at  once,  Lansing  saw  two  things.  He 
saw  what  was  wrong,  what  was  rotten,  in  the  great 
movie  industry.  He  saw  that  it  was  headed,  surely 
and  perhaps  swiftly,  toward  disaster.  And  he 
saw,  just  as  clearly,  what  had  to  be  done  —  what 
one  man,  at  least,  could  do.  He  saw  how  he, 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Robert  Lansing,  could  launch  a  new  enterprise 
and  be,  despite  the  start  the  earlier  men  had  of 
him,  the  pioneer  in  a  virgin  field. 

But  he  didn't  have  money  enough  to  go  ahead. 
He  didn't  regret  his  impulsive  action  in  Chicago. 
He  guessed  that  he  might  never  have  seen  his  real 
opportunity  without  the  experiences  of  the  last 
few  weeks.  So  he  had  sense  enough  not  to  repine. 
And  he  faced  squarely  the  fact  that  for  the  pres- 
ent he  was  and  must  be  the  tail  of  Hazzard's  kite, 
and  that  unless  the  kite  rose  he  himself  never 
could  leave  the  ground.  The  great  thing,  after 
all,  was  that  he  intended  to  change  all  that;  that 
he  wasn't  a  bit  deceived,  as  a  good  many  men  in 
his  position  might  have  been,  by  the  chance  that 
lay  in  sticking  by  Hazzard  after  the  urgent  neces- 
sity for  doing  so  had  ended. 

"  These  people  and  their  fights !  "  he  said  to 
himself  rather  scornfully.  "  They  fight  among 
themselves  as  if  the  result  would  really  settle  any- 
thing —  and  they  forget  all  about  the  public,  that 
can  smash  'em  all  —  and  will,  if  they  don't  give 
it  what  it  wants.  It  doesn't  know  what  movies 
can  be  yet  —  the  public.  But  someone  is  going  to 
show  it  sooner  or  later." 

[118] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


The  idea,  of  course,  was  that  that  someone  was 
to  be  Robert  Lansing.  But  that  was  an  idea  he 
preferred,  for  the  time,  to  keep  strictly  to  himself. 

And  meanwhile  the  time  came  for  the  special 
meeting  of  the  stockholders  of  Western  Film. 
Howell  took  the  chair  in  Hazzard's  absence,  and 
Cramer  at  once  moved  to  adjourn.  But  Brewer 
presented  Hazzard's  proxy,  and  he,  Lansing,  and 
the  dummies  who  had  been  endowed  with  a  share 
apiece  of  Hazzard's  stock  voted  that  motion 
down.  Then  consulting,  from  time  to  time,  slips 
of  paper  Hazzard  had  given  them,  Lansing  and 
Brewer  proceeded  to  declare  vacant  the  offices  of 
vice  president  and  secretary,  held  by  Howell  and 
Cramer,  and  also  their  directorships.  Cramer 
and  Howell  protested,  but  without  spirit. 

"  You  can  do  this,  of  course,"  said  Howell 
darkly.  "  But  it  won't  do  you  any  good.  And  I 
can  tell  you,  if  you  know  where  to  reach  Hazzard, 
you'd  better  get  hold  of  him  mighty  quick  and  tell 
him  to  come  back." 

But,  though  it  looked  as  if  the  game  were  in 
their  hands,  he  and  Cramer  both  looked  worried. 
And  after  the  meeting  they  sought  Lansing  out 
separately,  and  made  veiled  suggestions  that  he 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


ought,  in  his  own  interests,  to  detach  himself  from 
Hazzard.  He  was  polite,  but  otherwise  unsatis- 
factory. He  wasn't  associated  with  Hazzard,  he 
explained.  On  questions  that  had  come  before 
the  meeting,  he  added,  he  had  voted  according  to 
his  own  judgment,  which  might  be  mistaken,  but 
wasn't  to  be  changed. 

On  the  fourth  day  of  Hazzard's  absence  the 
opposition  seemed  to  decide  that  no  more  time 
was  to  be  lost.  Without  waiting  for  his  appear- 
ance, counsel  for  the  licensed  interests  began  their 
infringement  suit.  But  Hazen,  to  whom  Lansing 
took  the  papers,  laughed. 

"  They  can't  get  even  a  temporary  injunction  if 
that's  all  the  evidence  they've  got,"  he  said.  "  And 
I  suppose  Hazzard  has  buried  everyone  who's 
really  qualified  to  describe  that  camera?" 

"  I  guess  he  has,"  said  Lansing. 

So  far  things  did  not  look  so  bad.  But  — 
Hazzard  couldn't  stay  away  indefinitely.  He 
would  have  to  come  back.  And,  sooner  or  later, 
too,  the  opposition  could  get  the  facts  it  needed. 
Hazen  agreed  with  him  that  if  that  happened  the 
situation  would  be  critical  —  and  worse  than 
critical.  Even  if  Hazzard  was  right,  and  the 

[120] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


patents  in  question  were  held  to  be  too  compre- 
hensive to  cover  fundamental  things  that  should 
never  have  been  included  in  any  patent,  there  was 
bound  to  be  serious  trouble  if  it  came  to  an  in- 
junction. 

And,  as  it  turned  out,  Hazzard  hadn't  been 
able  to  stop  every  leak.  Within  a  week  a  tem- 
porary injunction  was  granted  on  evidence  that 
was  secured,  not  at  Fort  Lee,  but  in  Florida.  And 
on  that  day,  Lansing,  worried  more  seriously  than 
he  was  willing  to  admit,  even  to  himself,  got  a 
wire  from  Hazzard.  It  had  been  filed  in  Buffalo; 
it  asked  him  to  meet  Hazzard's  train,  a  famous 
flyer  from  Chicago,  on  its  arrival.  Lansing 
obeyed;  thought  of  an  improvement,  even.  In- 
stead of  waiting  in  New  York,  he  went  up  the 
line  to  the  place  where  steam  power  gives  way 
to  the  electric  current,  and  found  Hazzard  dozing 
in  his  compartment. 

"  Good  boy!  "  said  Hazzard  at  sight  of  him. 
"Shoot  now!  Tell  me  everything  that's  hap- 
pened. I've  had  code  telegrams  from  Brewer, 
but  he  didn't  put  much  in  —  wasn't  sure  I'd  get 
them  probably." 

Lansing  obeyed. 

[121] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  All  right,"  said  Hazzard.  "  I  guess  they're 
a  little  worried.  Mamma  !  Wait  till  I'm  through 
with  them." 

He  smoked  silently,  thoughtfully,  until  they 
were  in  the  tunnel. 

"  Used  to  be  one  of  these  afternoon-tea  sports, 
didn't  you?"  he  flung  at  Lansing  suddenly. 
"  Hardest  work  you  did  was  spending  pop's 
money  or  playing  a  game  of  tennis  now  and  then 
maybe?" 

"  Something  like  that,"  admitted  Lansing  cheer- 
fully. 

"  One  of  the  Four  Hundred,  eh?  " 

"  There's  no  such  animal  —  but  yes,  to  what 
you  mean  —  not  what  you  said." 

"H'm!  Lot  of  rich  friends?  Millionaires? 
Fellows  with  so  much  money  they  don't  know  how 
to  spend  it  ?  Steam  yachts  —  pictures  in  the  paper 
—  breach-of-promise  suits  —  lots  of  publicity 
about  their  kale?  " 

Lansing  laughed  at  the  picture.  A  few  months 
before  he  would  have  resented  it  bitterly.  But  his 
viewpoint  had  changed  since  he  had  joined  the 
ranks  of  the  workers. 

"Any  intimate  friends  like  that?"  Hazzard 

[122] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


persisted.  "  Any  you  know  well  enough  to  slap 
on  the  shoulder  and  call  by  their  first  names?  " 

"  Some,  I  guess." 

"Well  —  anyone  in  particular?  One  who's 
got  all  sorts  of  money  —  and  everyone  knows  he's 
got  it  ?  In  a  class  with  the  Astors  and  the  Vander- 
bilts  for  big  money?  " 

The  shining,  cheerful  face  of  Sandy  Brangwyn 
rose  before  Lansing's  eyes.  It  brought  a  new 
smile.  But  then  he  frowned  suddenly,  fiercely. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I've  got  a  pal  like  that  —  I 
guess  he'd  qualify  on  all  your  counts." 

"  And  you  know  him  the  way  I  said?  So  he'd 
do  anything  you  asked?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said  gravely.  "  But  —  he  won't  be 
asked,  Hazzard.  I'm  ready  to  back  your  play 
any  way  I  can  myself,  but  I  can't  borrow  from 
my  friends  —  " 

"  Don't  want  his  money,"  said  Hazzard. 
"  Who  said  anything  about  borrowing  money?  I 
want  to  borrow  him.  You  go  get  him,  see?  Bring 
him  to  my  office.  Just  walk  in  with  him,  and  tell 
him  to  nod  to  me  real  friendly." 

"  If  you'd  explain  —  "  suggested  Lansing. 

"  No  time.    And  I  don't  like  explanations,  any- 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


how.  Bad  thing  to  talk  about  your  plans,  Lan- 
sing. Liable  to  start  a  jinx  working  to  get  you. 
I  want  this  friend  of  yours  to  act  as  if  he  stood 
for  me  —  with  me  —  see  ?  He  don't  need  to  say 
anything.  Just  call  him  by  name.  If  he  looks 
like  a  saphead,  so  much  the  better." 

The  grinding  of  the  brakes  as  the  train  pulled 
into  the  station  cut  off  further  explanations.  And, 
absurd  as  the  whole  thing  seemed,  Lansing  knew 
he  would  do  what  Hazzard  asked.  He  had 
shaken  off  the  spell  of  Hazzard's  personality  to 
some  extent  in  his  days  of  clear  thinking  and  plan- 
ning while  the  big  man  was  away.  But  that  per- 
sonality reasserted  itself  as  soon  as  he  was  in 
direct  contact  with  it  again.  He  remembered 
Sandy  Brangwyn's  daily  schedule  pretty  well  — 
having  lived  his  own  life,  for  some  years,  on  very 
much  the  same  sort  of  schedule.  In  the  middle 
of  the  afternoon  he  could  count  on  finding  Brang- 
wyn  at  a  certain  club,  if  he  were  in  town  at  all.  A 
cab  carried  him  to  the  club,  and  Brangwyn  greeted 
him  like  a  man  returned  from  the  dead. 

"  I  want  you,"  said  Lansing.  "  Need  some 
help,  Sandy  —  " 

"How  much?"  asked  Sandy,  reaching  for  a 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


check  book;  and  not  offensively,  either.  He  was 
that  sort. 

"  Nothing  like  that,  Sandy.  Worse.  I  want 
you  to  come  along  with  me.  Sort  of  game.  Bit 
like  charades,  I  guess.  Game?" 

"  I'll  try  anything  once,"  said  Sandy.  He  liked 
the  phrases  of  the  moment.  He  always  had  a 
choice  stock  of  them.  And,  though  he  usually 
adopted  the  one  of  most  recent  invention  even 
before  it  got  into  the  comic  sections  of  the  news- 
papers, he  clung  to  such  sayings  long  after  every- 
one else  had  given  them  up.  There  was  a  certain 
method  in  this.  He  very  seldom  had  to  invent  a 
complete  sentence  when  he  talked. 

"  I  don't  know  where  I'm  going,  but  I'm  on 
my  way,"  he  said  as  Lansing  hailed  a  passing  taxi. 

"  You're  going  into  the  movies,"  said  Lansing. 
"  We're  on  our  way  to  Jim  Hazzard's  office. 
Your  play  is  to  be  friendly  with  him.  Act  as  if 
he  were  an  old  pal." 

This,  of  course,  would  be  easy  for  Brangwyn. 
He  was  friendly  with  everyone.  And  he  entered 
the  offices  of  Western  Film  with  a  broad  grin, 
which  grew  expansive  at  the  sight  of  a  pretty 
Western  actress  who  was  waiting  for  the  elevator. 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Sly  dog,  Bobbie !  "  he  said.  "  So  this  is  where 
you've  been  hiding  your  light!  Ah,  there, 
Bobbie!" 

He  fairly  beamed  when  Lansing  stopped  to 
speak  to  Brewer,  on  guard  at  Hazzard's  door. 

"  Go  right  in,"  said  the  imperturbable  Brewer. 
"  Howell's  in  there  —  and  Raeburn." 

"  Raeburn!  "  said  Lansing,  with  something  like 
a  gasp.  For  Raeburn,  beyond  all  question,  was 
the  power  behind  Howell  and  Cramer,  the  bit- 
terest, the  most  powerful,  the  most  ruthless,  of 
Hazzard's  enemies. 

"  And  some  lawyers,"  added  Brewer,  smiling 
very  faintly.  "  But  go  on  in  —  Mr.  Hazzard's 
expecting  you." 

Only  Lansing  noticed  Hazzard's  quick  look  at 
Brangwyn,  and  the  relief  that  came  into  his  eyes. 
Sandy  played  up  beautifully;  he  nodded  carelessly 
to  Hazzard,  and  shook  hands.  And  he  continued 
to  beam.  His  expression  indicated  that  he  would 
nod  to  all  the  men  present  and  shake  hands  with 
them  too,  if  he  knew  them,  and  would  be  de- 
lighted to  do  it,  just  because  he  found  them  in  the 
office  of  a  man  he  liked  as  much  as  he  did 
Hazzard. 

[1*6] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


11  I  brought  Brangwyn  along,"  said  Lansing. 
"  But  if  you're  not  ready  —  " 

"  Sit  down  —  won't  be  a  minute,"  said  Haz- 
zard  expansively.  "  Too  bad  to  take  Mr. 
Brangwyn's  time  up  this  way  —  but  business  is 
business !  " 

Lansing  wanted  to  get  a  chance  to  study  the 
men  in  the  room.  Their  expressions  made  the 
task  worth  while.  Raeburn  had  started  when  he 
saw  Sandy;  Lansing  hadn't  overestimated  the 
fame  —  some  called  it  notoriety  —  that  Sandy 
had  acquired.  He  and  his  millions  were  known 
to  the  company  beyond  doubt.  And  now  Lansing 
began  to  understand  what  sort  of  game  it  was  that 
Hazzard  was  playing.  Sandy,  with  his  millions, 
didn't  have  to  propitiate  this  interest  and  that  to 
keep  them.  His  money  came  from  Manhattan 
real  estate,  bought  by  his  ancestors  when  an  acre 
cost  as  much  as  a  square  foot  does  now,  and  he 
could  lay  his  hands  on  as  much  cash  as  some  fairly 
big  banks  at  a  week's  notice. 

"  Now!  "  Hazzard's  voice  rose  to  his  familiar 

roar  as  he  turned  to  Raeburn.    "  You  can  see  the 

options  I've  got.    Is  that  infringement  suit  going 

through  —  or  will  it  be  withdrawn  tomorrow?" 

[127] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Raeburn  hesitated;  seemed  to  be  on  the  verge 
of  apoplexy. 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  you  alone  for  five  minutes," 
he  said  at  last. 

"  Make  it  short,"  said  Sandy,  as  Hazzard  rose 
and  led  the  way  to  the  door.  "  We've  got  to  talk, 
too,  you  know." 

Hazzard  smiled.  They  could  hear  his  roaring 
voice  from  time  to  time ;  Lansing  guessed  he  was 
using  Howell's  old  room.  And  in  less  than  five 
minutes  they  were  back.  Raeburn  stopped  at  the 
door. 

"Come  on!"  he  said  to  his  crew.  "We've 
settled  it." 

"  He's  right,"  said  Hazzard  to  Lansing  and 
Sandy.  He  began  to  laugh,  and  before  he  stopped 
there  were  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"  They  thought  they  had  me  —  and  they  did," 
he  said.  "  I  couldn't  have  beaten  that  infringe- 
ment suit  —  not  until  they'd  put  me  out  of  busi- 
ness. They'd' have  got  all  our  exchanges.  That 
was  what  they  were  after  chiefly.  So  —  I  went 
out  and  got  as  many  of  theirs  as  I  could.  Rae- 
burn guessed  I  was  bluffing  —  told  me  I  didn't 
have  the  money  to  close  my  options." 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  You  didn't,"  said  Lansing. 

"  Of  course  I  didn't.    That's  where  —  " 

"  Oh,  I  see !  "  said  Sandy  chuckling.  "  That's 
where  I  came  in.  By  Jove,  that's  some  bluff !  I 
—  I  swear  I'd  have  made  good  for  if  you'd  been 
called." 

"  There  wasn't  a  chance  —  once  you  were 
here,"  said  Hazzard  scornfully.  "  I've  played 
poker  with  Raeburn.  I  know  his  limit." 

Then  he  turned  to  Lansing. 

"  Son,"  he  said,  "  I'm  going  to  pull  you  along 
with  me.  I  handed  you  a  raw  deal  at  the  start, 
but  you've  made  good.  I'll  make  your  stock 
worth  ten  times  what  you  paid  for  it  —  " 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  Lansing.  "  But  —  you  can 
have  the  stock.  I'll  turn  it  over  to  you  tomorrow 
for  what  I  paid  and  the  dividend  you  skinned  me 
for.  I've  had  enough." 

Hazzard's  whole  manner  changed. 

"  Want  to  quit?  "  he  said  sharply.  "  All  right. 
You've  got  to  now.  That's  one  thing  I  never  let 
a  man  change  his  mind  about.  Give  Brewer  the 
figures  —  you'll  get  your  check  when  you  deliver 
the  stock.  Going  to  quit  the  movies,  eh?  " 

"  I  didn't  say  that,"  laughed  Lansing.     "  I'm 

[129] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


going  into  the  business  myself.     Put  me  down 
among  your  rivals." 

Hazzard  had  proved  himself  clever.  But  he 
wasn't  quite  clever  enough  to  know  the  truth  when 
he  heard  it.  Perhaps  this  was  because  his  oppor- 
tunities in  that  line  had  been  limited  in  those  wild 
days  of  the  first  great  strides  of  the  movies. 


CHAPTER  XI 

ONCE  Lansing's  decision  was  made,  his 
seemingly  wasted  hours  stood  him  in  good 
stead.  He  had  picked  up  an  astonishing  amount 
of  irrelevant  knowledge  that  now  acquired  rele- 
vance. Best  of  all,  it  seemed  to  him,  was  his 
knowledge  of  just  where  to  find  Cliff  Martyn. 
Martyn  was  a  director  —  and  he  was  the  man  of 
all  men  Lansing  wanted  for  the  actual  making  of 
the  pictures  he  had  it  in  mind  to  produce.  He 
found  him  in  a  saloon  near  the  ferryhouse  at 
Forty-second  Street  and  the  North  River,  con- 
sorting with  longshoremen  and  others  of  more 
uncertain  occupation.  Martyn  had  been  doing 
what  men  usually  do  in  saloons,  and  doing  it  to 
excess.  But  three  hours  in  a  Turkish  bath  a  few 
blocks  east  restored  him  to  his  senses.  He  faced 
Lansing,  across  a  chilled  grapefruit  and  a  pot  of 
steaming  coffee,  wrapped  in  contrition  and  the 
voluminous  sheet  that  is  fashion's  last  word  in 
Turkish  bathhouses. 

"  I'm    a    bum,    Lansing,"    he    said    earnestly. 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Sheehan's  third-rail  whisky's  too  good  to  go  to 
pickling  me.  I  know  it  —  now.  I  tell  you  so. 
I'm  ashamed  of  myself.  But  what's  the  use? 
Tonight  or  tomorrow  night  you  could  find  me 
again  —  maybe  not  in  Sheehan's,  but  if  not  there, 
in  Mike's  place,  or  Casey's  or  the  Dutchman's." 

"  I  think  not,"  said  Lansing,  with  decision. 
"  Look  here,  Cliff  —  I  need  you  in  my  business. 
A  year  ago  you  could  have  licked  me  maybe.  Right 
now  I  could  put  you  out  in  one  round.  And  — 
that's  just  what  I'll  do  if  you  get  soused  again 
till  I  give  you  the  word." 

Martyn  straightened  up  and  stared  at  him. 

"What's  the  answer?"  he  said.  "How  do 
you  mean  you  need  me?  It  was  only  one  thing  I 
was  good  for  —  and  I  can't  get  a  job  doing  that." 

"  Maybe  not,"  said  Lansing.  "  But  the  job's 
got  you.  Listen !  Isn't  that  why  you've  been  try- 
ing to  drink  up  all  the  red  liquor  on  the  West  Side 
—  because  you  couldn't  get  back  on  the  job?  " 

"  Shouldn't  wonder,"  said  Martyn  dismally. 
"  What's  the  odds?  I'm  not  blaming  anyone.  I 
was  in  with  the  first,  with  the  old  trust  crowd.  And 
then  the  independents  offered  me  more  money, 
and  I  quit.  That's  why  the  licensed  people  won't 
[132] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


take  me  on  again.  I  don't  blame  them  —  they 
gave  me  fair  warning.  But  these  last  people  — 
stinting  me  on  money  and  making  me  throw  down 
people  I'd  hired  in  good  faith  —  say,  a  yellow 
dog  wouldn't  stand  for  the  way  they  acted  I  They 
were  just  looking  for  a  chance  to  beat  my  con- 
tract —  so  when  I  got  full  —  " 

Lansing  knew  that.  He  knew,  too,  that  there 
was  something  to  be  said  on  the  other  side.  This 
man  Martyn  was  an  artist,  if  there  was  one  in  the 
movies.  He  came  closer  to  genius  than  anyone 
concerned  in  the  actual  making  of  pictures.  And 
the  mention  of  his  name  in  the  Screen  Club,  at 
any  hour  of  the  night  or  day,  would  loosen  a  veri- 
table deluge  of  stories  about  his  temperament. 

"Cliff  Martyn?"  Debrett  had  said.  "The 
trouble  with  that  guy  is  that  money  don't  mean 
anything  to  him.  When  he's  making  a  picture  he 
isn't  thinking  about  getting  a  profit  out  of  it.  His 
idea  is  to  make  the  best  picture  there  is,  and  hang 
the  expense !  He  don't  care  how  much  sweating 
the  business  end  has  to  do  to  make  the  film  pay 
for  itself  or  show  a  profit." 

Lansing  knew  this,  believed  it,  and  could  see 
exactly  how  impossible  it  had  been  for  Martyn's 
[133] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


former  employers  to  do  business  with  him.  The 
quality  of  any  particular  film  had  nothing  to  do 
with  what  it  brought  from  the  exhibitors.  The 


rentals  were  fixed  by  the 
stern  and  absolute  law  of  competition.  *^§S 
For  a  first  run  the  price  was  so  much  a  foot,  and 
that  price  went  down  to  the  vanishing  point  with 
the  passing  of  time  and  the  release  of  the  film  to 
the  little  five-cent,  two-shows-a-week  houses.  The 
system  made  for  mediocrity,  but  it  was  the  best 
one  yet  devised.  Sometimes  a  manufacturer 
splurged  and  spent  far  more  on  the  making  of  a 
feature  than  he  could  hope  to  get  back.  But  he 
did  it  for  a  purpose,  and  charged  the  loss  to  adver- 
tising—  which  was  a  different  thing  from  charg- 
ing it  to  the  artistic  temperament  of  Cliff  Martyn. 
And  yet,  though  he  planned  to  start  his  enter- 

[134] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


prise  on  what  Hazzard  or  any  of  the  other  big 
men  would  have  called  a  shoe  string,  on  a  basis 
that  would  involve  watching  the  spending  of  every 
dollar,  it  was  this  spendthrift  of  the  films  that 
Lansing  wanted  for  his  director.  So  badly  did 
he  want  him,  indeed,  that  he  felt  it  would  be  use- 
less to  go  on  unless  he  got  him.  And  the  reason 
was  that  he,  Lansing,  was  willing  to  stake  all  he 
had  on  his  belief  that  he  had  discovered  a  new 
way  to  reach  the  public.  He  felt  that  he  was 
going,  after  all,  to  turn  his  spade  over  in  virgin 
ground. 

"  I  want  you  to  get  straightened  out,"  he  said 
to  Martyn.  "  I  want  you  to  go  away  from  this 
town  today  —  at  once.  Get  back  to  nature.  Get 
the  alcohol  out  of  your  system.  Get  your  skin 
clear  and  wipe  the  red  lines  out  of  the  whites  of 
your  eyes.  And  while  you're  doing  it  I'll  be  here 
or  hereabout,  getting  things  ready.  When  I  want 
you  I'll  send  for  you.  I'll  have  a  studio  and  a 
play  for  you  to  work  with.  And  then  I  want  you 
to  make  me  the  best  moving  picture  that's  ever 
been  taken.  I  want  you  to  forget  every  rule  every 
other  company  in  the  business  ever  had  and  work 
out  your  own  idea  of  what  the  public  will  like." 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"Gee!  "  said  Martyn.  "That  sounds  like  a 
fairy  tale.  You  mean  you'd  give  me  a  free  hand 
—  money  and  all?  " 

"  Up  to  the  limit  of  my  bank  roll  on  money  and 
without  any  limit  every  other  way.  If  you  want 
to  spend  money  and  I  have  to  say  no  it'll  be  be- 
cause I  haven't  got  it  —  not  because  it  would 
mean  spending  more  than  the  film  could  make. 
Because  —  the  way  I'm  going  to  handle  this  prop- 
osition there  isn't  any  limit  to  the  money  the  film 
can  make.  Get  that?  There  isn't  any  limit  to 
the  money  a  first-class  play  can  make,  is  there?  " 

"  No." 

"  You  bet  there  isn't !  Look  at  some  of  the  big 
successes  just  in  the  last  few  years.  If  the  play's 
good  enough  it'll  make  the  money.  And  I  don't 
see  why  it  shouldn't  be  so  with  a  film.  Now  — 
are  you  willing  to  go  in  with  me?  You'll  get 
enough  to  live  on  while  the  film's  being  made  — 
which  doesn't  include  anything  for  booze.  So 
will  I.  Every  cent  is  going  into  the  production. 
But  —  you'll  get  an  interest  in  the  company  I'm 
going  to  incorporate  to  handle  this  thing.  The 
more  money  the  film  —  and  the  others  that  fol- 
low it  —  makes,  the  more  you'll  get.  You  and 
[136] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


I'll  be  in  the  same  boat.  Now  —  does  that  sound 
like  something  worth  doing?  " 

"  Would  a  life  belt  look  good  to  a  man  who'd 
fallen  overboard  in  the  middle  of  the  ocean?  I'll 
go  you  —  and  I'm  beginning  to  see  what  you're 
driving  at,  too.  I  believe  we  can  do  it." 

They  shook  hands  very  solemnly. 

"  But  —  look  here!  "  said  Martyn.  "  I  mean 
every  word  of  this  —  now.  I  know  you've  got 
the  right  dope.  But  —  I've  been  hitting  it  pretty 
hard  lately.  How  do  you  know  I  can  quit?  I 
don't  know  it  myself.  I  intend  to  —  now.  But 
every  man  does  when  he's  been  boiled  out  in  a 
hot  room.  I  might  fall  off  the  wagon  again  any 
time." 

"  You'd  better  not.  Because  —  you'll  fall  into 
a  whole  heap  of  trouble  the  first  time  you  do.  I 
meant  what  I  said.  The  first  time  I  see  you 
tipping  your  elbow  we're  going  to  find  out  which 
is  the  better  man,  and  if  I  can  lick  you,  believe  me 
I'll  do  it  to  the  queen's  taste.  I'm  not  bluffing  — 
I've  got  an  idea  that  treatment's  got  the  gold  cure 
and  all  these  slip-it-in-his-coffee-when-he's-not-look- 
ing  powders  backed  off  the  boards  for  results. 

"  Heavens  above,  man!    What  is  there  for  you 

[137] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


in  being  a  tank?  You  don't  enjoy  waking  up  with 
a  head  that  makes  you  want  to  put  on  the  waste- 
basket  for  a  hat  when  you  go  out  to  breakfast. 
You  don't  enjoy  anything  about  this  game.  You 
want  to  get  back  —  to  have  people  talk  about  you 
as  the  man  who  is  the  best  director  in  the  movies, 
instead  of  as  the  one  who  might  be  or  used  to  be. 
And  you're  going  to  be  busy.  When  I  send  for 
you  to  come  back  you  won't  have  time  for  Shee- 
han's  or  the  Dutchman's  or  any  other  bar.  We'll 
be  working  against  time  then  to  get  the  picture 
done  before  our  cash  gives  out." 

"  I'll  go  you,"  said  Martyn.  "  You're  dead 
right.  I  guess  there's  a  chance  for  me  —  because 
I  never  did  like  the  stuff  or  what  it  does  to  you. 
If  I've  got  something  better  to  do  I  can  let  it 
alone.  And  I  don't  need  any  of  that  back-to- 
nature  stuff,  either.  I'm  ready  to  start  work 
tomorrow." 

"  Work  isn't  ready  for  you  yet,"  said  Lansing. 
"  And  you  may  feel  fine  now,  and  think  you're  fit 
to  do  anything.  But  you're  not.  After  a  couple 
of  days  your  nerves  would  begin  yelling  at  you.  I 
know  just  the  place  for  you,  and  I  guess  I  can  fix 
it  for  you." 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


He  had  no  hesitation  this  time  in  appealing  to 
Sandy  Brangwyn.  He  guessed  that  Sandy  was 
about  due  at  his  camp  in  Maine,  and  he  knew  that 
Sandy  made  a  point  of  respecting  that  State's 
best-known  law  while  he  was  in  residence  there. 
There  was  no  difficulty  about  the  matter. 

"Delighted!"  said  Sandy.  "I  get  you,  old 
top  —  what?  He  won't  know  a  cocktail  if  he 
meets  it  outside  the  station  when  he  comes  back. 
You  leave  it  to  me.  If  I'd  ever  had  to  work  for 
a  living  I'd  have  been  a  doctor  —  what?  Old 
Doc  Brangwyn !  Bring  him  along  to  the  train 
tomorrow  —  and  then  forget  him.  You  won't 
know  him  when  you  see  him  again." 

Lansing  heaved  a  sigh  of  vast  relief  when  he 
saw  the  little  party  off  to  Maine.  Sandy  was  not 
without  his  faults.  His  best  friends  didn't  call 
him  brilliant.  He  had  few  ideas,  very  few.  But 
when  he  got  one  it  had  plenty  of  room  in  his  head, 
and  it  grew  and  filled  the  whole  space.  Lansing 
had  no  idea  how  Martyn  would  react  to  this  some- 
what heroic  treatment.  But  he  could  trust  Sandy. 

And,  for  himself,  he  began  to  be  very  busy.  He 
had  to  acquire  the  plant  and  equipment  of  his 
studio,  nebulous,  a  thing  that  existed  as  yet  only 
[139] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


in  his  own  mind.  And  straightway  he  became  a 
bargain  hunter.  He  accomplished  wonders,  for 
he  intended  to  spend  just  as  little  as  he  could  until 
operations  had  begun.  He  knew  how  pitifully 
small  his  capital  was  for  the  enterprise  he  had  in 
mind.  Once  more  his  stock  of  seemingly  useless 
knowledge  proved  invaluable.  Here,  there,  and 
everywhere  he  bought  what  had  to  be  on  hand 
before  any  sort  of  start  could  be  made. 

And  then,  cautiously,  lest  he  give  himself  away 
too  soon,  he  began  negotiations  for  the  right  to 
produce  the  play  he  had  fixed  upon  as  the  first 
production.  It  wasn't  a  new  play,  but  it  had  been 
tremendously  successful  in  its  time,  some  years 
before,  and  so  was  reasonably  sure  to  strike  a 
familiar  chord  when  it  was  advertised  as  he  meant 
to  advertise  it.  Moreover,  it  had  been  the  vehicle 
of  a  star  who  had  not  scored  a  real  success  since 
it  had  closed  its  run.  That  had  weighed  heavily 
in  his  selection.  He  wanted  a  star  of  the  legiti- 
mate theater,  and  he  knew  he  didn't  have  money 
enough  even  to  interest  those  who  were  reveling 
in  current  hits.  This  man  he  had  in  mind  might 
be  more  willing  to  take  a  chance. 

But,  knowing  Martyn  and  his  temperament, 
[140] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Lansing  postponed  definite  action  in  these  matters 
until  his  return.  Getting  the  studio  into  shape 
took  a  lot  of  time.  Quite  naturally,  he  had  located 
it  on  his  old  stamping  ground  atop  the  Palisades. 
So  his  dealings  with  his  prospective  star  and  with 
the  owners  of  the  play  he  wanted  were  only 
tentative.  He  carried  them  only  far  enough 
to  be  able  to  lay  a  definite  plan  before  Martyn 
when  he  finally  sent  for  him.  He  was  ready  for 
his  director  in  less  than  a  month,  and  at  the  sta- 
tion he  greeted  a  Cliff  Martyn  who  had  filled  out 
and  straightened  up,  whose  eyes  were  white  where 
eyes  should  be  white,  and  not  streaked  with  red, 
and  whose  skin  was  as  brown  as  that  of  a  healthy 
boy. 

"  No  need  to  ask  how  you  feel,"  said  Lansing, 
with  deep  content. 

"  There  aren't  any  words  for  it,"  said  Martyn, 
breathing  deep.  "  I  haven't  felt  like  this  since 
Hector  was  a  pup." 


CHAPTER  XII 

HEY  got  down  to  work 
at  once.  Lansing  had 
opened  an  office  in  a  building 
near  Longacre  Square  —  not  as 
imposing  a  procedure  as  it  ap- 
peared to  be  just  then,  since  office  buildings 
were  going  up  far  ahead  of  a  coming  demand. 
The  office  was  a  modest  affair;  aside  from  Lan- 
sing himself,  the  working  force  of  the  Lansing 
Film  Company  consisted,  at  this  time,  of  one 
stenographer.  Lansing  and  Martyn  sent  her  out 
to  lunch  and  got  down  to  business. 

"  You'd  better  tell  me  just  what  you've  got  up 
your  sleeve,"  Martyn  began.    "  First  —  I  haven't 
got  cold  feet.     I'm  for  you,  first  and  last,  and  in 
the  middle.     But  —  if  you're  planning  to  go  into 
this  game  on  a  shoe  string,  you'd  better  save  your 
stake.    It  can't  be  done.    The  exchanges  —  " 
"  Are  all  controlled  by  one  group  or  another," 
[142] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Lansing  finished  it  for  him.  "  I  know  that.  But 
the  State's  rights  men  aren't." 

Martyn  threw  up  his  hands. 

"  Good  Lord !  If  you'd  told  me  you  had  that 
bee  in  your  bonnet  I  could  have  choked  you  off  — 
even  if  I  had  a  hang-over!  "  he  said.  "  To  begin 
with,  they're  buying  outright  prints  of  foreign 
films.  Practically  all  the  big  features  the  State's 
rights  men  are  handling  are  from  abroad.  In  a 
way,  they're  good,  too.  But  you  can't  figure  on 
them.  I  grant  you  can  turn  out  better  stuff  —  but 
not  at  a  price  those  fellows  will  look  at.  Milano 
—  Itala  —  all  the  big  foreign  makers  —  pay  ten 
dollars  a  week  where  we'd  have  to  pay  fifty  or  a 
hundred.  They  get  their  supers  for  fifty  cents  a 
day  —  and  we're  lucky  to  get  bum  extras  for  three 
dollars.  Everything's  in  proportion." 

"  You  admit  we  can  make  better  film  —  " 

"  Forget  it;  it  doesn't  make  any  difference.  I've 
used  that  argument  myself  when  I  was  fighting  to 
spend  five  thousand  on  a  picture  that  could  be 
skimped  through  for  five  hundred.  And  the  an- 
swer's the  same  one  I  always  got  —  it's  price  that 
the  exhibitor  considers,  not  quality.  He's  got  to. 
He's  got  a  theater  that  holds  just  so  many  people. 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


He  knows  the  maximum  receipts  for  any  week, 
and  after  he's  been  in  business  long  enough  he 
knows  what  average  deduction  to  make  for 
weather  and  other  things  that  affect  his  attendance. 

"And  he  knows  —  the  exhibitor  —  what  his 
expenses  are,  too.  He  can't  allow  for  any  deduc- 
tion there,  either,  you  bet.  His  rent  and  his  pay 
roll  and  his  lighting  bills  go  on  just  the  same, 
whether  he  plays  to  capacity  or  to  empty  seats. 
He's  got  to  make  film  rental  a  fixed  charge,  too. 
That's  why  he's  glad  to  take  a  program  from  his 
local  exchange.  He  can't  pay  more  just  because 
you  offer  him  an  extra  good  film.  The  public 
won't  stand  for  his  raising  his  prices.  Listen  — 
I'm  talking  against  myself  when  I  shoot  all  this 
dope  at  you.  I'd  like  nothing  better  than  to  take 
a  crack,  just  once,  at  making  a  picture  without  any 
limit  to  speak  of. 

"  Gad  —  I'd  like  to  see  how  a  few  ideas  of 
mine  would  work  out!  And  if  there  wasn't  so 
much  money,  I'd  have  fun  beating  a  skinny  bank 
roll,  too  —  showing  you  and  myself  and  a  few  of 
the  dubs  that  think  it's  clever  to  roast  me  what  I 
can  do.  I'd  put  a  few  things  over.  But  I  won't 
let  you  go  up  against  a  game  that's  dead  sure  to 

[144] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


beat  you.  You'd  do  better  to  give  Dave  Stein- 
man's  faro  game  a  play  some  night.  You'd  get 
quicker  action  —  the  suspense  wouldn't  be  so  bad 
for  you,  and  you  might  have  a  chance  to  win,  if 
Dave's  dealer  had  an  off  night." 

"  Yes  —  I  guess  you've  covered  the  ground," 
said  Lansing,  nodding.  "  That's  about  what 
everyone  who's  described  conditions  in  the  film 
game  has  told  me.  Only  —  they  seem  to  forget 
that  just  because  things  have  been  done  a  certain 
way  isn't  any  reason  for  doing  them  that  same 
way  forever." 

"  You  said  something  like  that  before  —  and  it 
sounded  all  right.  But  I  was  half  doped  then. 
And  since  I  got  away  I've  been  thinking  it  over. 
You  can't  beat  this  exchange  game  in  any —  " 

"  Yes,  you  can  —  and  through  the  State's  rights 
men,  in  spite  of  what  you  say.  Now  I'll  explain. 
We're  going  to  turn  out  the  best  film  we  can,  with 
the  resources  we've  got.  It  won't  be  as  good  a 
film  as  we'd  like,  and  as  we'd  get  if  we  didn't  have 
to  watch  expenses.  But  it'll  be  a  better  film  than 
the  public's  ever  been  asked  to  look  at  in  this 
country.  And  that's  just  what  we're  going  to  do 
—  we're  going  to  ask  the  public  to  look  at  it,  the 

[145] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


way  it's  asked  to  go  to  see  Belasco's  newest  play, 
or  the  latest  musical  show. 

"  The  way  things  are  now  people  just  go  to  the 
movies.  They're  beginning  to  get  to  want  some 
particular  actor  or  actress  —  only  just  beginning. 
Generally  speaking,  though,  they  don't  know  what 
they're  going  to  see.  They  pay  their  nickel  or 
their  dime,  and  they  find  a  seat  and  hope  it'll  be  a 
good  program.  What  sort  of  way  is  that  to  run 
a  great  amusement  business?  How  long  would 
the  theaters  keep  open  if  they  just  hung  out  a 
sign  and  told  people  to  pay  their  money  and  take 
a  chance  on  seeing  something  good?  Isn't  that 
the  way  it  is  in  the  movies  now?  All  John  Smith 
knows,  when  he  takes  his  best  girl  to  the  pictures, 
is  that  they'll  see  about  six  or  seven  reels  —  a 
couple  of  two-reel  features,  a  one-reel  comedy 
with  a  chase  in  it,  maybe  another  one-reeler,  and 
perhaps  a  topical  weekly." 

u  All  that's  true  —  but  what  are  you  going  to 
do  about  it?  " 

"  Go  to  the  public.     Tell  it  we've  produced  a 

certain  film.    Put  it  on  in  a  regular  theater  here  in 

New  York  —  on  Broadway.     Charge  real  money 

while  it's  there.    Advertise  it  —  a  particular  film, 

[146] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


specially  written,  specially  produced,  specially  cast. 
Tell  'em  before  they  go  what  they're  going  to  see. 
Get  the  same  sort  of  national  publicity  for  it  that 
a  first-class  play  gets,  so  that  people  in  the  smaller 
theaters  and  the  smaller  towns  will  be  waiting  for 
it.  Don't  you  see?  The  State's  rights  men  will 
have  to  have  that  film.  It'll  draw  capacity  audi- 
ences —  and  they'll  be  willing  to  pay  extra  prices 
because  they  know  they'll  see  an  extra  good  show. 
Now  do  you  see?  " 

"  It  might  —  yes,  it  just  might  get  over,"  said 
Martyn  slowly,  reluctantly.  "  It's  a  way  of  get- 
ting around  the  way  the  game's  being  run  now. 
But  can  you  put  it  over?  There's  all  sorts  of 
things  to  be  taken  into  account  —  " 

"  You  do  your  part  —  give  me  the  best  film  we 
can  get  for  what  we  can  afford  to  put  into  it.  I'll 
guarantee  to  put  my  share  over.  It's  a  gamble  — 
and  if  you  can  show  me  anything  in  the  amusement 
business,  from  a  penny  peep  show  to  a  fifty-thou- 
sand-dollar musical  extravaganza  that  isn't,  I'll 
eat  it.  It's  up  to  you,  Cliff.  Are  you  willing  to 
put  in  your  brains  and  your  knowledge  of  how  to 
make  a  picture,  and  your  time  —  against  what 
money  I've  got  and  my  part  of  the  work?  " 
[147] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Oh,  me !  "  Martyn  dismissed  the  idea  that 
he  had  anything  to  risk  with  a  gesture  of  con- 
tempt. "  I  haven't  been  worrying  about  myself, 
Lansing.  All  I've  ever  needed  to  make  me  willing 
to  jump  in  with  both  feet  is  to  know  that  you've 
got  some  sort  of  a  chance  to  come  out  ahead.  And 

—  I  guess  you've  got  that  chance  —  about  one  in 
a  hundred." 

"  That's  enough,"  said  Lansing,  with  decision. 
"  If  you  can  see  the  chance,  too,  even  if  it  doesn't 
look  any  bigger  than  that,  it's  a  cinch  it's  there. 
That  shows  I'm  not  absolutely  crazy.  Now,  then 

—  how  about  doing  '  Crandall's  Revenge  '  for  our 
first  feature  —  with  Ralph  Morgan  as  star?" 

Martyn  threw  back  his  head  and  thought  for  a 
minute. 

"  Good  enough,  I  guess,"  he  said  after  a  min- 
ute. "  I  see  what  you're  figuring  on  —  that  peo- 
ple will  remember  the  play  just  well  enough  to 
want  to  see  it  again.  It  was  dramatized  from  a 
novel,  wasn't  it?  " 

"  One  reason  I  picked  it.  In  the  play  some  of 
the  best  stuff  in  the  book  couldn't  be  acted  out  — 
it  had  to  be  brought  in  as  exposition  —  the  char- 
acters just  told  one  another  that  this  and  that  had 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


happened.  In  a  film  we  can  act  it  all  out,  and 
more,  too,  if  we  need  it." 

"  Right!  "  said  Martyn.  "  I  used  to  hammer 
at  them  all  the  time  to  buy  the  rights  to  good 
magazine  stories  for  me  to  make  into  scenarios  — 
and  now  they're  beginning  to  do  it.  That's  where 
the  best  films  are  coming  from  in  the  future  — 
because  those  chaps  know  how  to  write  stories. 
But  about  Morgan  —  I  don't  believe  you've  got  a 
chance  to  get  him.  He'd  want  the  key  to  the 
subtreasury." 

"  He  hasn't  had  a  success  for  five  years  —  not 
a  real  one.  He  was  in  five  different  plays  last 
year  —  and  not  one  of  them  ran  more  than  two 
weeks.  He  worked  a  lot,  but  it  was  at  rehearsal, 
and  actors  don't  get  paid  for  rehearsals.  I've  got 
a  hunch  I  can  land  him  easily  —  but  I  wouldn't  go 
near  him  till  I'd  got  your  O.  K." 

"  All  right  —  go  ahead.  He'll  do,  if  you  can 
get  him.  He's  got  the  right  sort  of  face,  and  I 
can  wise  him  up  on  working  for  the  camera.  I'll 
read  the  book  this  afternoon  and  dope  out  the  rest 
of  the  cast.  With  a  star  like  that  we  can  get  cheap 
people  for  the  other  parts,  and  I  know  plenty  of 
good  ones  that  will  do  better  work  than  this  crowd 
C  H9] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


that's  beginning  to  think  it's  worth  real  money. 
I'll  get  Jim  Blunt  for  the  camera  and  Teddy 
Lathrop  to  help  me  and  attend  to  props." 

"  All  that's  up  to  you,"  said  Lansing.  "  I'm 
not  butting  in  on  your  end  of  the  game,  Cliff.  But 
the  more  people  you  can  get  who'll  take  small 
money  now  and  take  a  chance  on  going  up  with  us 
when  we've  made  good  —  " 

"  I  get  you.  Leave  that  to  me.  I  know  a  few 
people  who'd  rather  work  with  me  for  enough  to 
live  on  than  get  big  money  where  they  are.  You 
go  on  and  get  Morgan,  if  you  can,  and  are  awfully 
sure  you've  got  all  the  rights  to  the  piece.  You 
don't  want  to  be  held  up  with  any  copyright-in- 
fringement stuff  after  you  get  going.  And  remem- 
ber that  a  play's  worse  than  a  bit  of  land  when  it 
comes  to  a  clear  title.  I've  known  plays  that 
twenty  or  thirty  people  had  an  interest  in." 

They  separated,  each  with  his  work  cut  out  for 
him.  So  far,  Lansing  felt,  he  had  done  well  — 
almost  too  well.  He  hadn't  expected  Martyn  to 
acquiesce  so  easily  and  so  fully  in  all  his  sugges- 
tions. But  he  guessed  that  Martyn's  tempera- 
ment was  only  sleeping,  not  dead;  that  it  had  been 
lulled  by  his  month  in  the  woods.  It  was  pretty 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


sure  to  break  out  later  under  the  strain  of  getting 
the  picture  ready.  Moreover,  it  would  be  in  touch 
with  another  artistic  temperament  then,  if  Lan- 
sing had  any  luck  —  that  of  Ralph  Morgan. 

It  was  easy  to  reach  Morgan.  In  the  old  days 
the  stage  had  been  Lansing's  chief  passion,  and  a 
few  minutes  of  telephoning  put  him  in  touch  with 
a  friend  at  The  Lambs  who  promised  to  produce 
the  star  in  the  Knickerbocker  bar  within  fifteen 
minutes  —  and  kept  his  word.  He  introduced 
Lansing,  and  vanished  discreetly. 

Morgan  was  "  at  liberty,"  or  "  resting." 
Either  phrase  is  technically  correct,  and  either, 
being  translated,  means  that  the  great  actor  was 
looking  for  a  job.  But,  for  a  star,  this  is  not  a 
simple  process.  The  theatrical  world  rests  very 
largely  on  foundations  of  pretense.  He  —  or  she 
—  who  has  once  been  a  star  may  touch  the  borders 
of  starvation  afterward,  but  must  never  admit  it. 
The  star,  needing  an  engagement,  cannot  ask  for 
it.  He  must  wait  to  be  approached  by  some  man- 
ager. Nor  can  he  accept  a  lesser  part  to  tide  over 
a  bad  spell.  It  must  be  stardom  or  nothing.  So 
there  are  stars,  unluckily  cast,  as  Morgan  had  so 
often  been  since  his  one  great  success,  who  could 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


write  instructive  articles  on  how  to  live  in  New 
York  on  a  fraction  of  nothing  a  day. 

If  Morgan  was  in  this  class  when  Lansing  met 
him,  however,  there  was  nothing  in  his  aspect  or 
his  manner  to  show  it.  Solomon,  beside  him, 
looked  like  a  countryman  after  a  misfit  parlor  has 
done  with  him,  and  the  lilies  of  the  field  would 
have  blushed  had  they  been  obliged  to  stand  com- 
parison with  him.  His  tailor,  it  may  be  guessed, 
considered  him  a  good  advertisement. 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  only  wasting  your  time  by 
asking  you  to  meet  me,  Mr.  Morgan,"  Lansing 
began.  Here,  he  knew,  was  an  occasion  for  diplo- 
macy. "  I  suppose  your  plans  for  the  next  few 
weeks  are  already  made?  " 

"  Well  —  ah  —  they  might  be  changed,  you 
know,"  said  Morgan.  "  I  fancy  a  chappie  can 
always  make  a  turn  if  there's  a  bit  of  'oof  in  sight 

—  eh,  what?" 

"  I've  noticed  it,"  said  Lansing  dryly.     "  Well 

—  I'll  be  frank.     I  and  my  associates  wondered 
if  you  could  be  induced  to  do  some  moving-pic- 
ture work?  " 

"  My  word  I  "  said  the  actor.     "  I  say  —  that 
is  a  bit  thick,  old  top  —  'pon  my  word,  you  have 
[152] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


got  a  cheek!  I  mean  to  say  —  thinkin'  I'd  act 
on  a  bally  screen.  But  I  suppose  the  screw's  fair- 
ish—  eh,  what?  What'll  you  Americans  be 
thinkin'  of  next,  I  wonder?" 

"  About  five  million  of  'em  will  be  thinking 
about  Ralph  Morgan  if  you  agree  to  my  proposi- 
tion," said  Lansing.  "  Look  here  —  I  think 
you're  about  the  best  actor  of  your  type  we've 
got.  I  mean  that.  I  always  did  think  so,  in  all 
the  rotten  plays  they  put  you  into  after  '  Cran- 
dall's  Revenge.'  But  —  " 

"  I  say  —  they  were  a  bit  high  now,  weren't 
they?  "  interrupted  the  actor.  "  I'm  fed  up  with 
your  Yankee  managers;  they're  quite  too  toppish, 
and  that's  a  fact." 

"  You've  had  bad  luck.  You  made  the  hit  of 
your  life  in  '  Crandall's  Revenge  ' ;  but  that's 
being  forgotten.  Suppose  you  could  get  every  one 
thinking  again  about  how  good  you  were  in  that? 
Suppose  you  could  have  another  long  run  in 
that  play?  You'd  be  as  popular  as  ever  again, 
and  the  managers  would  all  be  after  you,  wouldn't 
they?" 

"  My  word,  yes,  rather.  But  they  won't  re- 
vive it,  old  chap.  My  word  —  I've  asked  them 

[153] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


to  a  dozen  times.  They  say  it  wouldn't  do  at  all 
—  and  give  a  lot  of  silly  reasons." 

Lansing  rather  prided  himself  on  the  way  he 
reached  that  point.  And  now  he  fairly  spred 
himself  in  the  effort  to  make  Morgan  see  what  an 
elaborate  film  production  of  "  Crandall's  Re- 
venge "  would  mean  for  him  —  the  publicity,  the 
renewed  popularity. 

"  It  would  be  better  than  a  revival,"  he  said 
enthusiastically.  "  A  few  weeks  of  easy  work 
and  it's  all  over.  Making  the  whole  picture  won't 
take  any  longer  than  the  rehearsals  of  a  play  — 
and  then  your  part's  all  done." 

"  My  word!  "  said  Morgan.  "  You  American 
chaps  can  talk  —  eh,  what?  But  about  the  screw 
now  —  the  oof  —  the  bally  coin,  as  you  Ameri- 
cans say?  Eh,  what?  " 

Mr.  Morgan  talked,  at  times,  like  what  he 
would  have  called  a  "  silly  ass,  eh,  what?  "  But 
in  matters  of  money  he  proved  himself  singularly 
astute.  He  demanded,  and  got,  a  good  deal  more 
than  Lansing  had  been  willing  to  pay  as  a  weekly 
salary.  And  he  had  a  contingent  interest  in  the 
profits  of  the  film,  too;  one  that  promised  to 
make  him  independent  of  managers  for  some 
[154] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


time,  if  Lansing's  venture  made  good.  However, 
Lansing  was  well  satisfied.  He  could  afford  to 
mortgage  the  future,  and  Morgan  was  one  of  the 
principal  reasons  he  had  for  feeling  that  he  had 
a  future  to  mortgage. 


[155] 


CHAPTER  XIII 

EVEN  after  Morgan  was  snared,  a  good  deal 
of  work  remained  to  be  done  before  Martyn 
could  set  the  wheels  finally  in  motion  with  his 
first  cry  of  "Picture!"  He  and  Lansing  did 
forty-eight  hours  of  practically  continuous  work 
on  the  manuscript,  the  working  scenario,  with 
relays  of  stenographers.  With  novel  and  play  to 
work  on,  many  changes,  many  adaptations,  were 
still  necessary.  Lansing  was  rather  appalled  at 
the  free  way  Martyn  handled  the  material,  but 
the  director  laughed  at  him. 

"  Doesn't  make  any  difference  how  different 
it  is,"  he  said.  "  We  stick  to  the  main  thread 
of  narrative  —  and  we  give  them  the  scenes  they 
remember  in  the  play.  That's  the  point,  it  seems 
to  me,  though,  of  course,  we're  blazing  a  new  trail 
here.  A  lot  of  people,  of  course,  are  coming  to 
see  this  film  because  they  remember  the  play.  We 
want  to  satisfy  them.  But  —  if  all  the  people 
who  saw  the  play  came  to  see  the  film  we'd  lose 
money." 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  How  do  you  make  that  out?    The  play  made 
three  hundred  thousand  dollars." 


"  Yes  —  running  about  three  years.  Call  it 
ninety  weeks  solid  running.  Suppose  you  allow 
fifteen  thousand  a  week  —  and  that's  liberal. 
We've  got  to  show  to  twice  that  many  people  to 
have  a  big  winner,  because  we'll  have  at  least 
twelve  performances  a  week,  and  more  likely 
twenty-one.  No  —  we've  got  to  figure  on  the 
people  who  didn't  see  the  show  —  who  only  just 
heard  about  it.  A  lot  of  them  will  be  movie  fans 
—  and  we've  got  to  please  them.  We've  got  to 
build  this  picture  up  for  the  people  who've  never 
seen  the  play.  We're  dealing  with  a  new  genera- 
[157] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


tion.  All  we've  really  got  to  worry  about  is  get- 
ting out  a  good  film.  That's  why  I'm  making  all 
these  changes." 

There  were  changes  of  other  sorts,  too,  for 
Martyn  was  figuring  on  expense  in  every  scene. 
As  he  went  along  he  was  making  notes  of  the 
settings,  jotting  down  ideas  for  exteriors.  Scene 
after  scene  reminded  him  of  some  spot  he  knew. 

"  You're  like  a  Baedeker  guide,"  said  Lansing. 
"  Only  you  must  have  gone  around  New  York 
looking  at  every  place  you  saw  as  a  possible  setting 
in  a  picture." 

"  Sure,"  admitted  Martyn.  "  That's  my  busi- 
ness. I'm  like  the  man  who  sat  down  and  cried 
the  first  time  he  saw  Niagara.  When  they  asked 
him  why,  he  said  he  was  thinking  about  all  the 
power  that  was  going  to  waste ;  and  he  didn't  begin 
to  cheer  up  and  enjoy  the  sight  till  they  told  him 
that  the  power  was  being  used." 

Lansing  had  to  laugh  at  the  way  Martyn 
schemed  to  save  a  single  setting. 

"  It  all  counts,"  said  the  director.    "  It  isn't  just 

what  it  costs  us  to  build  the  scenes,  either.     It's 

the  time.     That's  where  doubling  up  on  exteriors 

counts.    The  salaries  you  pay  go  right  into  the  ex- 

[158] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


pense  record,  you  know,  and  I  guess  I've  doped 
out  ways  of  cutting  the  time  of  this  production 
down  by  a  week  or  ten  days  already  —  supposing 
we  get  some  decent  weather.  You  can  make  a 
scene  look  entirely  different  by  changing  the  set-up 
—  moving  the  camera.  Remember,  I  don't  say 
a  good  director,  someone  used  to  doing  the 
same  thing  himself,  wouldn't  catch  on.  But  not 
the  public.  And  what  they  don't  know  won't 
hurt  'em." 

"  You're  tarred  with  the  same  brush  as  Haz- 
zard  and  the  rest  of  them,"  said  Lansing.  "  Any- 
thing goes  if  you  can  get  away  with  it.  That's 
the  motto  of  this  whole  business  nowadays,  it 
seems  to  me." 

"  Well,  it's  got  to  be  our  motto  on  this  film," 
said  Martyn.  "  Oh,  you  needn't  worry!  Give  me 
some  velvet  to  work  on  for  the  next  production 
and  I'll  spend  money  so  fast  you  won't  be  able  to 
see  it  go.  Say  —  I  jewed  Chambers  down  to 
forty-five.  And  he's  been  getting  seventy-five  from 
Western  Film.  If  he  hadn't  had  a  row  with 
Haines  we  couldn't  have  touched  him.  But  Roche 
threw  me  down  hard.  There's  a  little  girl  that's 
going  to  wind  up  with  real  money.  She  wouldn't 
[159] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


look  at  less  than  a  hundred  and  a  quarter,  and  I 
wouldn't  sign  her  for  that." 

"For  the  lead,  eh?  I  don't  know,  Cliff  —  I 
suppose  we'll  have  to  spend  pretty  nearly  that, 
won't  we?  " 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it.  I've  got  another  iron 
or  two  in  the  fire.  And  I  can  get  Roche  at  that 
figure  any  time  I  want  her.  She'd  like  to  work 
with  us,  I  guess.  Trouble  is,  it's  hard  to  get  a 
woman  lead  with  the  right  sort  of  face  and  enough 
experience  for  this  sort  of  part.  They've  gone 
crazy  with  their  long-haired,  soulful-eyed  matinee 
idols  lately.  About  seventy-five  per  cent  of  the 
films  you  see  released  now  are  playing  up  someone 
like  Warren  Kerrigan  or  Frank  Bushman." 

Lansing  had  been  waiting  for  just  such  an  op- 
portunity as  this.  Very  casually  now  he  made  his 
first  suggestion  regarding  the  cast. 

"  Say  —  I  used  to  know  a  girl  who  might  do," 
he  said.  "  I  worked  with  her  when  I  was  learn- 
ing the  ropes.  She  looked  then  as  if  she  might 
be  pretty  good  when  she  got  some  experience.  But 
she's  never  played  leads." 

"  That  wouldn't  matter,"  said  Martyn.  "  I'd 
just  as  soon  have  a  woman  that  didn't  know  it  all. 
[160] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


If  she  had  the  stuff  I  could  bring  it  out.  Who  is 
this  dame?  " 

"  I'll  try  to  find  her  and  bring  her  around,"  said 
Lansing.  "  Of  course,  it's  up  to  you." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Martyn  seriously. 

Lansing  grinned.  And  he  didn't  blame  Martyn, 
either.  Yet  from  the  beginning  of  this  enterprise 
he  had  intended  that  Mary  Brewster,  the  girl  he 
had  first  seen  on  the  ferry,  crossing  to  Fort  Lee, 
should  play  opposite  to  Morgan.  He  had  never 
forgotten  the  impression  she  had  made  on  him  on 
that  first  day,  when  her  intuition  for  the  right 
effect  had  distinguished  her  so  absolutely  from 
the  automatons  who  were  obeying  the  orders  that 
Haines  flung  at  them. 

He  had  seen  a  good  many  moving-picture 
actresses  since  then.  He  had  seen  good  ones  and 
bad  ones,  and  many  who  touched  all  the  notes  that 
lay  between  those  extremes.  He  had  seen  pret- 
tier ones  than  this  girl  —  but  he  had  seen  none 
who  were  able  to  blur  at  all  the  sharp,  distinct 
impression  she  had  made  upon  him.  He  had 
taken  the  trouble  to  follow  up  the  film  in  which 
he  had  made  his  first  appearance  before  the 
camera,  and  had  seen  it  two  or  three  times  in 
[161] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


different  theaters.  And  the  effect  of  her  quick, 
carefully  calculated  bit  of  business  had  been  as 
sharp,  as  vivid  on  the  screen  as  in  the  studio. 
Moreover,  it  had  won  its  tribute  of  a  quick  catch- 
ing of  the  breath  from  those  who  sat  near  him. 

It  had  always  surprised  him  that  this  girl  had 
not  been  recognized  —  that  no  director  had  seen 
her  possibilities,  and  done  his  part  in  making  her 
famous.  But  he  wasn't  disposed  to  quarrel  with 
his  luck.  From  the  beginning  he  had  hoped  that 
some  stroke  of  fortune  would  delay  her  success 
until  he  could  have  a  hand  in  it.  Selfish?  Of 
course  !  Lansing  was  pretty  human.  Nothing  that 
has  been  told  about  him  has  been  set  down  with 
any  idea  of  making  him  appear  to  be  what  he  was 
not.  He  had  the  ordinary  merits  and  defects  of 
mankind.  And  he  had  a  consuming  ambition,  to 
which  everything  had  to  be  subordinated. 

So  he  was  glad,  as  he  set  out  to  find  Mary 
Brewster,  that  her  name  hadn't  become  a  sort  of 
household  word.  He  expected  her  to  be  a  big 
factor  in  that  process  of  realizing  his  ambition  to 
which  he  had  already  consecrated  Ralph  Morgan 
and  Cliff  Martyn.  He  wanted,  very  passionately 
now,  to  make  good.  Lansing's  had  gone  down 
[162] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


again;  the  great  store  that  his  father  had  built  up 
was  closed,  and  this  time  definitely.  The  reor- 
ganization had  kept  it  alive  for  only  a  few  months. 
And  he  had  heard  echoes  of  talk  that  connected 
him  with  the  failure.  He  wasn't  blamed  for  it, 
but  there  was  talk  —  a  sort  of  intimation  that  he 
was  like  the  sons  of  many  other  successful  fathers. 
It  wasn't  only  for  the  sake  of  having  as  much 
money  as  he  had  had  before  that  he  wanted  to 
succeed,  of  course.  Though,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
if  this  enterprise  with  u  Crandall's  Revenge  "  did 
fail,  he  was  going  to  be  poor  in  good  earnest. 
Failure  would  mean  the  need  of  getting  a  job  and 
a  salary  just  to  live  upon. 

He  supposed  that  finding  Mary  Brewster  would 
be  a  simple  matter.  But  it  wasn't.  He  took  a 
taxicab  to  the  address  he  had  kept  ever  since  that 
first  day  at  the  Western  studio,  forgetting,  if  he 
had  ever  known,  the  impermanence  of  such  New 
York  addresses.  She  wasn't  there,  and  there  was 
no  one  in  the  building  who  had  ever  heard  of  her. 
This  was  the  first  small  check  he  had  encountered 
since  he  had  taken  Cliff  Martyn  to  the  Turkish 
bath,  and  it  annoyed  him  out  of  all  proportion 
to  its  importance.  Then  he  called  up  Haines,  at 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Fort  Lee  —  and  found  that  he  knew  nothing 
about  the  girl  and  cared  less. 

"  I  had  to  can  her  six  months  ago,"  said  Haines. 
"  She  couldn't  get  along  with  Miss  Trainor;  got 
to  thinking  she  owned  the  studio,  I  guess." 

So  he  had  to  institute  a  regular  search.  This 
was  unfortunate,  for  it  seemed  that  he  was  the 
only  man  in  the  industry  who  thought  of  Mary 
Brewster  as  a  real  actress,  and  there  were  some 
suggestive  glances  that  made  him  pretty  angry 
when  he  made  his  inquiries.  He  couldn't  explain 
himself  and  his  quest;  on  Martyn's  advice,  re- 
enforced  by  his  own  common  sense,  he  had  kept 
his  intentions  quiet.  Hazzard  had  been  angry  at 
his  desertion;  Cramer  and  Howell,  and  the  big 
interests  behind  them,  blamed  him  because  through 
his,  Lansing's,  intervention,  Hazzard  had  twice 
escaped  the  traps  they  had  set  for  him.  They 
were  likely,  he  knew,  to  do  all  they  could  to  beat 
him,  once  they  knew  what  he  was  doing. 

Here  and  there,  in  the  course  of  three  days  of 
visits  to  the  studios  about  New  York,  in  Flat- 
bush,  over  on  the  Palisades,  in  Yonkers,  and  the 
Westchester  hills,  Lansing  heard  of  the  girl.  Al- 
ways she  had  been  around  looking  for  work.  But 
[164] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


he  couldn't  catch  up  with  her,  and  the  trail,  any- 
how, seemed  to  be  about  three  weeks  old.  And 
then,  one  morning,  when  he  had  been  to  Coytes- 
ville,  and  was  returning,  just  before  noon,  he  met 
her  in  Manhattan  Street.  She  was  thin  and  very 
pale,  and  she  was  hurrying,  as  best  she  could,  to 
catch  the  boat.  He  stopped  her,  and  swore  to 
himself  at  the  hunted  look  that  sprang  into  her 
eyes  as  she  turned  to  face  him. 

"  Miss  Brewster!  "  he  said.  "  I've  been  look- 
ing for  you  all  over  the  place." 

She  remembered  him  in  a  moment. 

"  I  haven't  —  I  haven't  been  very  well,"  she 
said.  "  I  was  going  over  early  this  morning  to 
try  to  find  something  to  do,  but  I  had  to  lie  down 
again." 

Certainly  she  didn't  look  well.  She  looked 
shabby,  too,  which  was  worse,  almost,  so  far  as 
her  chances  of  getting  work  went. 

"  Well  —  you've  found  something  to  do,  all 
right !  "  he  said  happily.  "  I'm  it !  Look  here  — 
let's  get  into  a  taxi  and  run  down  to  some  place 
near  here  for  lunch.  Then  we  can  come  to  terms. 
I'm  not  going  to  let  you  out  of  my  sight,  now  that 
I've  found  you." 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


He  got  her  into  a  cab  while  she  was  hesitating. 
And,  in  the  restaurant,  he  found  out  part  of  what 
was  the  matter  with  her.  The  girl  was  hungry. 
She  tried  to  save  her  face  with  some  remark  about 
not  having  felt  well  enough  to  eat  breakfast,  but 
Lansing's  intuitions  had  become  sharper,  and  he 
knew. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  after  she  had  eaten,  and 
when  the  food  and  the  rich,  hot  coffee  had  had 
some  effect.  "  I'm  going  to  throw  my  cards  down 
on  the  table  for  you." 

He  told  her  a  good  deal  of  his  story,  and  she 
stared  at  him,  wide-eyed,  while  she  listened. 

"Well?"  he  said  finally. 

"  Oh  —  I  think  you're  going  to  win !  "  she  said. 
"  I  don't  see  why  you  shouldn't.  I  always  won- 
dered why  you  were  working  as  an  extra  —  be- 
cause you  didn't  look  at  all  as  if  you  needed  to. 
Most  of  the  men  who  do  that  —  well,  you  know !  " 
She  shrugged  her  shoulders  to  dispose  of  them. 
"  But  —  where  do  I  come  in?  Are  you  going  to 
give  me  a  little  part,  or  some  work  as  an  extra? 
I  —  I  suppose  I  haven't  any  shame  any  more.  I 
need  it  dreadfully!  " 

"  No  —  that's  not  what  I  want  you  for,"  he 
[166] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


said.  "  I've  got  an  idea  that  you  and  I  can  help 
to  make  one  another's  fortunes,  Miss  Brewster. 
I  think  you  might  be,  in  six  months,  the  best  known 
woman  in  the  movies.  But  it's  all  up  to  Martyn. 
I've  told  you  about  him  —  what  sort  of  a  crank 
he  is.  If  you  went  to  him  right  now  he  wouldn't 
look  at  you  twice.  You  know  —  I  don't  mean  to 
be  unkind  —  " 

Her  face  was  crimson,  but  she  nodded  pluckily, 

"  I  know,"  she  said.  "  I  look  —  oh,  dread- 
ful —  " 

"  We'll  make  old  Cliff  the  victim  of  a  little 
conspiracy,"  he  said  cheerfully.  "  You're  going 
to  take  this  money  and  buy  some  pretty  clothes. 
And  you're  going  to  dine  with  me  tonight  in  some 
awfully  swell  place,  where  we'll  feel  like  bloated 
millionaires  just  because  they  let  us  in.  And  in 
the  morning  you're  going  to  put  on  the  very  nicest 
of  all  your  new  things,  and  you're  coming  down 
to  the  office  with  a  hang-over  of  that  millionaire 
feeling  and  let  Cliff  persuade  you  to  play  the  lead 
in  '  Crandall's  Revenge  ' !  Aren't  you?  " 

"  I  —  I  oughtn't  to,  but  I'll  do  whatever  you 
say,"  she  said  weakly.  And  then,  suddenly,  she 
flamed  up.  "  I  don't  care,"  she  cried,  "  I  think 

[167] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


you're  right,   Mr.   Lansing!     I  believe  I  am  a 
good  actress!  " 

"  Now  I  know  it's  going  to  be  all  right!  "  he 
said  triumphantly. 


[168] 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  conspiracy  was  a  great  success.  Mary 
Brewster  managed  to  surprise  even  Lansing, 
such  wonders  had  she  worked  with  the  money  he 
had  supplied.  She  had  refused  to  take  all  he 
offered,  but  it  was  obvious  that  she  had  had 
enough.  Martyn  talked  with  her  for  five  min- 
utes, making  little  thumb-nail  sketches  of  her,  full 
face  and  profile.  He  dropped  a  book,  seemingly 
by  accident,  and  got  the  quick  reflex  action  of  her 
features.  He  tried  a  dozen  other  tricks  with  which 
Lansing,  by  this  time,  was  familiar,  tricks  that 
aroused  varying  emotions  in  the  girl,  and  so  served 
to  show  the  mobility  of  her  features.  And  then 
he  engaged  her  for  the  lead. 

Picking  the  rest  of  the  company  was  easy.  Mar- 
tyn, indeed,  had  practically  cast  the  picture,  ex- 
cept for  the  three  or  four  really  important  parts, 
as  he  read  the  novel  and  made  his  preliminary 
schedule  of  the  scenes.  He  made  no  attempt  to 
get  well-known  people;  he  shared  Lansing's  belief 
that  most  of  them  were  simply  automatons,  the 
[169] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


limit  of  whose  ability  was  reached  when  they  did 
exactly  as  a  director  told  them.  Moreover,  those 
whose  reputations  hadn't  yet  been  made  were 
cheaper.  Even  so,  the  weekly  pay  roll  was  enough 
to  make  a  capitalist  with  as  meagre  a  qualification 
as  Lansing's  for  the  role  gasp.  But  he  didn't 
wince.  Too  much  economy,  he  knew,  would  be 
as  dangerous  as  the  most  wanton  extravagance. 

"  Well,"  said  Martyn,  at  last,  "  I'm  ready  to 
start !  I've  fussed  around,  and  I've  been  slow  — 
but  I've  worked  that  way  on  purpose.  We  don't 
want  a  lot  of  things  turning  up  to  hold  us  back 
after  we  do  start,  because  the  pay  roll  starts  when 
we  do.  So  I've  tried  to  anticipate  everything.  I 
can't  see  any  reason  now  why  we  shouldn't  make  a 
sprint  out  of  this.  Six  weeks  I'm  allowing  for 
the  making  of  the  picture,  and  you  can  go  ahead 
with  your  plans  for  handling  it  on  that  basis. 
Allow  another  ten  days,  say,  for  cutting  and  piec- 
ing, and  for  putting  in  titles  and  inserts.  We  may 
save  some  time,  but  that  ought  to  be  an  outside 
limit,  barring  accidents." 

"  It's  up  to  us  to  bar  the  accidents,  all  right," 
said  Lansing  soberly.  "  The  longer  I  stay  in  this 
game,  Cliff,  the  more  it's  brought  home  to  me 

[170] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


that  the  chap  who  said  time  was  money  had  the 
right  dope.  Time's  money  with  us,  all  right,  and 
we  can  figure  it  out  to  about  six  places  of  decimals, 
too,  if  you're  interested." 

"  Don't  do  it  on  my  account,"  said  Cliff.  "  I 
haven't  got  any  head  for  figures.  But  I've  got  the 
general  idea,  all  right.  We've  got  to  finish  her 
up  while  the  bank  roll  still  needs  a  rubber  band 
to  keep  it  together.  All  right!  Just  at  present 
you  see  a  fairly  human  being.  Tomorrow  morn- 
ing I'll  have  Simon  Legree  backed  off  the  boards. 
By  tomorrow  night  that  whole  crowd,  from  Mor- 
gan down,  will  be  ready  to  slip  rat  poison  into  my 
coffee  —  but  they'll  be  too  scared  to  do  it;  and 
they'll  work  like  blazes,  just  to  get  it  over  and 
done  with!  " 

Lansing  grinned.  He  allowed  for  a  certain  de- 
gree of  exaggeration,  but  he  knew  that  Martyn 
would  have  to  hold  a  whip  of  some  sort  over  the 
people  who  were  to  transform  "  Crandall's  Re- 
venge "  from  an  idea  to  a  five-reel  feature  photo 
play.  Opinions  might  differ  —  they  do,  in  fact  — 
as  to  the  degree  of  art  in  moving  pictures.  But 
he  knew  that  even  a  grand-opera  company  couldn't 
teach  very  much  about  the  artistic  temperament 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


to  the  inmates  of  the  aver- 
age studio  during  the  mak- 
ing of  a  picture.  The  work 
is  done,  nearly  always,  at 
high  speed,  and  under  a 
terrific  strain.  Nerves  get 
tight;  tempers  are  always 
near  the  vanishing  point. 
Regarding  Ralph  Morgan, 
Lansing  hoped  for  the  best. 
After  he  had  seen  Martyn  at  work 
Lansing's  hopes  waxed  very  high.  Never  before 
had  he  seen  Martyn  directing  a  picture.  Martyn 
wanted  no  outsiders  in  the  studio  while  he  was 
working,  and  it  had  happened  that  Lansing,  when 
[172] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


he  was  working  as  an  extra  man,  had  never  found 
work  with  him.  It  was  Martyn's  reputation 
among  film  men,  and  the  pictures  of  his  making 
that  he  had  seen,  that  had  led  him  to  choose  him. 

"  Crandall's  Revenge  "  began  very  quietly.  On 
the  first  day  there  were  no  extras  present  at  all, 
though  Lansing  knew  that  they  had  already  been 
selected,  and  knew  just  when  to  report.  The  prin- 
cipals, when  he  got  to  the  studio,  were  grouped 
in  what  the  movie  world  knows,  technically,  as  an 
"  interior,  parlor,  wealthy."  And  Martyn,  walk- 
ing up  and  down  and  gesturing  freely,  was  telling 
them  the  story  of  the  play.  He  told  it  very  well, 
describing  the  various  climaxes  that  would  be 
made  in  the  film,  and  his  reasons  for  various 
changes  and  alterations  of  the  original  novel  and 
play. 

Then  he  took  up  the  characters  in  detail.  In 
terse,  picturesque  sentences,  he  described  the  peo- 
ple who  were  going  to  move  through  the  five 
thousand  feet  of  film  that  would-be  the  result  of 
their  work. 

"  Think  of  them  as  real  people,"  he  urged. 
"  Then  think  of  yourselves  as  having  become  those 
people.  Get  into  these  characters,  so  that  you 

[173] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


keep  on  acting  your  parts  even  when  you're  rest- 
ing for  lunch  or  waiting  for  your  cue.  Some  of 
the  best  business,  some  of  the  best  bits  we'll  have 
in  this  picture,  you'll  supply.  If  you  imagine 
yourselves  as  really  doing  these  things,  really 
swayed  by  the  emotions  and  ambitions  of  these 
imaginary  people,  you  can't  help  giving  little  nat- 
ural touches  to  your  work  that  I'd  never  get. 
Maybe  some  directors  wouldn't  admit  this,  but  I 
know  it's  so.  I've  never  made  a  picture  yet  in 
which  my  actors  haven't  been  responsible  for  about 
half  the  good  stuff  I  got  credit  for." 

Lansing  went  out  and  shook  hands  with  himself 
solemnly.  He  thought  of  Haines,  who  didn't  even 
let  his  people  know,  when  they  acted  a  scene,  what 
its  relation  might  be  with  the  one  before  it  or 
the  one  after  it.  He  went  off  about  his  own  work 
with  a  light  heart.  He  felt  that  he  could  trust 
Martyn  absolutely.  Since  he  had  returned  from 
Maine  he  hadn't  shown  a  single  symptom  of  want- 
ing a  drink,  and  Lansing  was  ready  to  believe 
that  his  drinking  had  been  due  less  to  a  craving 
for  liquor  than  to  a  general  and  easily  accounted 
for  depression,  that  had  made  some  sort  of  stimu- 
lant a  necessity.  He  had  heard  of  such  cases  be- 

[174] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


fore,  cases  in  which  hard,  important  work,  with 
something  vital  at  stake,  had  furnished  all  the 
stimulant  necessary.  Martyn  had  that  sort  of 
work  now,  and  it  looked  as  if  he  would  be  too 
busy  even  to  think  about  his  former  resource. 

And,  meanwhile,  Lansing's  own  work  was  cut 
out  for  him.  Having  no  illusions  about  Cramer, 
Howell,  and  company,  and  not  being  too  sure  that 
Hazzard,  too,  wouldn't  enjoy  a  chance  to  hurt 
him,  he  realized  that  he  had  a  double  problem. 
He  had  to  keep  his  movements  covered  as  long  as 
he  could  —  until  all  his  arrangements  were  made. 
And  then  he  had  to  get  publicity  for  "  Crandall's 
Revenge,"  and  get  it  in  large  doses.  Having 
given  up  deliberately  the  ordinary  ways  of  reach- 
ing the  public  with  his  product,  he  had  to  organ- 
ize his  selling  campaign,  to  put  the  thing  in  terms 
of  commerce. 

His  theatrical  knowledge,  limited  as  it  was, 
made  him  a  little  wary  of  New  York.  It  might 
be  easier  to  launch  the  film  on  Broadway;  it  was 
almost  sure  to  be  easier  to  get  a  theater  in  that 
Mecca  of  amusements.  But  —  failure  in  New 
York  would  probably  mean  complete,  irredeem- 
able disaster.  Many  and  many  a  play,  as  he  knew, 

[175] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


had  gone  to  the  storehouse  after  a  single  dis- 
astrous week  or  two  in  New  York,  when,  had  it 
been  shown  first  on  the  road,  it  might  have  made 
a  good  deal  of  money.  The  road,  and  cities  like 
Chicago,  Boston,  Philadelphia,  will  not  accept  a 
play  that  has  failed  in  New  York.  But  they  do 
not  demand  the  stamp  of  metropolitan  approval; 
they  will  approve  a  play,  if  they  like  it,  that  has 
never  been  nearer  Broadway  than  a  try-out  on  the 
Atlantic  City  or  New  Haven  dog. 

Lansing  wasn't  sure  that  this  precedent  would 
hold  good  for  a  feature  film  like  "  Crandall's  Re- 
venge." As  a  matter  of  fact,  of  course,  he  had 
nothing  to  go  by.  The  thing  hadn't  been  done 
before,  and  he  had  to  make  his  own  precedents. 
But,  on  general  principles,  he  decided  to  try  for  a 
theater  in  a  smaller  city  first,  knowing,  as  he  did, 
that  New  York  isn't  half  as  ready  to  greet  a  new 
thing  as  it  would  like  the  rest  of  the  country  to 
believe  —  that  it  is  the  most  hidebound,  conserva- 
tive old  lady  of  a  town  in  America,  if  only  the 
truth  were  known.  Not  that  he  didn't  entertain 
a  considerable  affection  for  his  native  city.  He 
did.  But  he  had  no  illusions  about  it,  either. 

There  was  another  reason,  too,  for  his  decision 
[I76] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


to  stake  everything  on  a  try-out  in  another  city.  It 
would  be  easier  to  keep  his  potential  enemies  in 
the  dark.  Cramer  and  Howell,  he  knew,  were 
very  close  to  the  great  powers  in  the  theatrical 
world.  It  happened  that  there  was  a  temporary 
truce  between  the  two  embattled  theatrical  groups 
at  this  time.  That  would  keep  him  from  playing 
one  against  the  other,  which  might  prove  desirable. 
So,  through  Hazen,  to  keep  the  thing  covered, 
he  began  to  negotiate  for  theaters  in  two  or  three 
available  cities.  Also,  he  arranged  for  the  print- 
ing of  the  positive  films  from  the  negatives  that 
would  come  from  the  studio.  He  had  no  equip- 
ment for  this,  of  course,  but  there  were,  by  this 
time,  various  independent  film  companies  that 
were  glad  to  do  the  work,  which  held  a  comfort- 
able profit.  For  various  reasons,  he  split  up  the 
job,  arranging  to  get  a  thousand  feet  from  a  plant 
in  New  York,  another  thousand  in  Philadelphia, 
and  so  on.  This  was  important  work.  The  long 
strips  of  film  on  which  a  photo  play  is  taken  are 
precious  things,  once  they  have  been  developed. 
And  they  are  as  fragile,  as  sensitive,  as  easily 
destroyed  as  they  are  precious.  The  task  of  print- 
ing the  positive  is  a  delicate  one,  intrusted  to  ex- 

[177] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


perts  in  the  manipulation  of  the  almost  human 
machine  that  does  the  work,  with  its  spitting  spark 
flaming  blue  in  the  dark  room,  so  many  times  a 
second,  recording  a  minute  photograph  with  each 
flash  of  electric  flame,  while  the  film  moves  on. 

There  were  chances  for  Lansing  to  make  mis- 
takes, glorious  blunders.  But,  in  the  main,  his 
was  routine  work,  and  not  to  be  compared  to  the 
task  that  lay  in  Martyn's  hands.  What  he  had 
most  need  of  was  patience  —  which  is  the  most 
useful  possession  of  any  man  who  is  trying  to  do 
something  unsanctioned  by  successful  precedent. 

Barring  the  possibility,  and  he  considered  it  a 
remote  one,  of  interference  by  some  hostile  inter- 
est, Lansing  hadn't  anticipated  any  real  difficulty 
in  getting  a  theater,  wherever  he  chose  to  look 
for  it.  His  plan  was  to  open  just  at  the  end  of 
the  regular  theatrical  season,  when  road  compa- 
nies are  ending  their  tours,  and  no  new  produc- 
tions, except  a  few  musical  comedies,  are  being 
made.  By  so  doing,  he  reasoned,  he  would  find 
many  theaters  dark,  closed  for  the  summer.  Rent 
goes  on,  whether  a  theater  is  closed  or  open.  So 
do  a  good  many  other  overhead  charges. 

"  Let  me  put  in  my  film  —  on  the  regular  shar- 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


ing  basis,"  was  his  proposition.  "  All  you're 
gambling  is  the  trifling  cost  of  keeping  the  box 
office  open  and  providing  ushers  and  lights." 

It  seemed  to  him  the  sort  of  proposition  that 
any  alert  manager  would  jump  at  —  a  chance  to 
make  money  in  what  had  always  been  a  losing 
period  of  the  year.  But  he  encountered  objections 
on  all  sides.  The  objections  simmered  down  to 
one  principal  stumblingblock. 

"  I've  got  a  first-class  theater,"  said  one  man- 
ager after  another.  "  I  play  two-dollar  attrac- 
tions thirty  weeks  a  year.  People  know  that  I 
only  book  the  best  plays."  This  wasn't  true,  in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten;  what  that  manager,  and 
pretty  nearly  every  other  manager,  did  was  to 
take  what  the  central  powers  in  New  York  sent 
him!  "  I  can't  afford  to  lower  the  tone  of  my 
house  by  letting  in  a  moving-picture  show.  I  can't 
have  my  house  classed  with  the  ten-cent  movie 
theater  around  the  corner.  And  I'd  be  a  sucker 
to  boost  this  movie  game,  anyhow.  It's  beginning 
to  cut  in  on  our  profits.  We're  not  selling  half  the 
gallery  seats  we  were  before  all  these  cheap  pic- 
ture houses  started  up !  " 

Lansing  had  arguments  to  overcome  every  ob- 

[179] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


jection.  But  they  weren't  strong  enough  to  con- 
quer the  managers  —  men  who,  as  a  class,  are  at 
once  bolder  and  more  timid  than  any  other  body 
of  adventurers  under  the  sun.  It  was  pure  luck, 
not  skill,  as  he  was  fully  ready  to  admit,  that  got 
him  his  theater  at  last.  Hazen  heard  of  the  owner 
of  a  fair-sized  theater  in  a  city  within  fairly  easy 
reach  of  New  York  who  was  in  serious  financial 
difficulties.  It  wasn't  the  sort  of  theater  Lansing 
had  hoped  for,  but  it  would  do,  at  a  pinch.  He 
went  to  its  owner,  armed  with  his  knowledge  of 
the  man's  difficulties,  and  this  time  he  got  action. 

"  A  year  ago  I'd  have  turned  you  down  flat," 
said  Roth.  "  But  some  one's  been  putting  you 
wise  to  the  hole  I'm  in.  If  your  film  goes  over  I 
might  get  going  again.  You  can  have  the  Apollo 

—  but  you  got  to  give  me  five  hundred  dollars  ad- 
vance for  an  option.    Then  I'll  give  you  the  option 

—  good  for  four  weeks  from  date.     I  got  to 
protect  myself,  see?    There  was  a  sucker  talking 
about  a  summer-stock  season  —  " 

Lansing  ventured  to  doubt  it.  But  he  wrote  his 
check.  It  was  the  Apollo  or  an  attempt  to  get  a 
New  York  theater,  and  he  fought  shy  of  that 
alternative. 

[180] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  You  can  thank  the  crooked  politicians  in  this 
town  for  your  chance  to  get  the  Apollo  1  "  said 
Roth  bitterly.  "  Just  because  I  wouldn't  pay  the 
graft  they  were  after  they  swore  they'd  get  me  — 
and  I'm  here  to  say  they  came  near  doing  it!  " 

Lansing  knew  that  story.  It  was  a  sordid  and 
not  unfamiliar  tale.  Roth,  enjoying  the  easily 
purchased  favors  of  certain  city  officials,  had 
quietly  defied  most  of  the  building  ordinances  for 
years.  New  politicians,  acquiring  power,  had  un- 
dertaken an  upward  revision  of  the  scale  of  prices 
for  protection.  Roth  had  refused  to  pay.  Each 
side  had  been  bluffing.  The  grafters  had  gone  a 
little  too  far  in  giving  publicity  to  the  violations 
of  the  law  at  the  Apollo,  and  had  to  make  their 
bluff  good.  Though  Roth  yielded,  in  frantic  haste, 
and  agreed  to  pay  the  new  scale,  public  opinion 
had  demanded  the  alterations  that  were  necessary 
to  make  the  Apollo  safe.  The  result  had  been 
a  theater  closed  for  ten  or  twelve  of  the  best 
weeks  of  the  season,  canceled  bookings,  and  the 
loss  of  enough  money,  when  it  was  added  to 
ruinously  expensive  changes  in  the  theater,  to  put 
Roth  in  a  bad  hole.  The  plain  truth  was  that 
Roth  couldn't  carry  the  house  until  the  opening 
[181] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


of  the  new  season  unless  something  turned  up,  so 
he  and  Lansing  were  both  satisfied. 

But  Lansing's  satisfaction  was  tempered  by  a 
telegram  that  reached  him  at  his  hotel  when  he 
went  back  to  pack  his  bag  for  his  return  to  New 
York. 

"  Come  at  once,"  it  read.  "  Your  presence 
imperative." 

It  was  signed  by  Mary  Brewster.  He  did  not 
enjoy  his  ride  to  New  York.  He  knew,  somehow, 
that  this  girl  he  had  discovered  was  not  the  sort 
to  be  frightened  without  cause. 


CHAPTER  XV 

HIS  train  was  delayed,  and  he  didn't  reach 
the  city  until  too  late  for  a  visit  to  the 
studio  —  so-called  by  courtesy.  He  called  Mar- 
tyn  on  the  telephone  and  left  word  for  the  director 
to  call  him  up.  And  then,  to  his  annoyance,  he 
found  that  he  didn't  have  Mary  Brewster's  ad- 
dress. He  waited,  with  as  much  patience  as  he 
could  muster,  for  Martyn  to  call  him  up.  But  no 
call  came.  Still,  he  was  not  really  uneasy  because 
of  that.  Martyn  might  not  have  got  his  message 
—  in  fact,  renewed  telephoning  to  his  boarding 
house  proved  that  he  hadn't.  Any  number  of 
things  might  have  kept  him  from  going  home. 

But  it  was  annoying,  to  put  it  mildly,  to  have 
to  wait  until  morning  to  discover  the  reason  for 
the  telegram,  and  it  meant  a  night  in  which  sleep 
played  a  small  and  inconsequential  part.  Most 
of  the  hours  of  darkness  were  passed  in  intricate 
calculations.  Expenses  were  mounting;  unfore- 
seen items  were  coming  up  with  a  regularity  that 
was  not  less  depressing  because  he  had  foreseen 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


something  of  the  sort,  and  had  tried  to  leave  a 
safe  margin. 

Still,  unless  something  really  serious  had  gone 
wrong  at  the  studio,  Lansing  felt  that  they  ought 
to  pull  through.  He  had  his  theater  now,  and  that 
had  for  several  days  been  his  chief  source  of 
anxiety.  Now  it  was  a  comparatively  simple  ques- 
tion of  finishing  the  film  on  the  expenditure  that 
his  diminishing  bank  roll  made  possible.  He  was 
tempted,  more  than  once,  to  remember  his  friend- 
ship with  Sandy  Brangwyn,  who  would  advance 
any  sum  he  might  need.  But  he  crushed  that 
thought  down  remorselessly.  He  was  willing  to 
gamble  with  his  own  money,  but  not  with  Brang- 
wyn's.  And  he  knew  that  if  Brangwyn  put  up 
money  it  would  be  out  of  friendship,  and  not  at 
all  because  of  any  expectation  of  profit.  And  that 
was  just  what  Lansing  couldn't  allow. 

He  woke  up  late,  to  his  annoyance,  having  gone 
to  sleep  finally  as  dawn  was  breaking.  He  was 
irritable  already,  and  the  discovery,  made  by  tele- 
phone, that  Martyn  hadn't  been  home  at  all  dur- 
ing the  night  increased  his  irritability.  He  hit  the 
Fort  Lee  trail  a  little  late,  and  crossed,  this  time, 
with  the  aristocrats  of  the  movies,  who  didn't  have 
[184] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


to  be  on  hand  for  the  very  early  work.  There 
were  half  a  dozen  famous  stars,  and  several  of 
them  nodded  to  him.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  knew 
about  every  one  on  the  boat  who  was  bound  for 
the  studios.  His  diligent  haunting  of  the  Screen 
Club  had  increased  his  acquaintance  remarkably, 
and  his  brief  connection  with  Hazzard  had  rather 
marked  him. 

By  this  time,  too,  every  one  in  the  game  knew 
something  about  the  picture  Martyn  was  making. 
Too  many  people  were  engaged  in  it  for  it  to  be 
kept  a  secret.  No  one  knew  Lansing's  plans  —  he 
had  told  those  only  to  the  very  few  whose  cooper- 
ation was  indispensable.  And  so,  though  his  con- 
nection with  the  making  of  "  Crandall's  Revenge  " 
was  known,  he  had  been  able  to  cover  such  activi- 
ties as  his  deal  with  Roth.  Most  of  the  wise 
players  of  the  movie  game  thought  the  whole  en- 
terprise of  "  Crandall's  Revenge  "  a  colossal  joke. 
They  guessed  that  Lansing  and  Martyn  intended 
to  dispose  of  it  through  the  State's  rights  men, 
and,  knowing  something  of  how  much  the  picture 
was  costing,  amused  themselves  by  speculating 
as  to  how  much  money  its  backers  would  lose. 

But  they  liked  Lansing,  and  he  made  up  some 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


of  his  lost  time  by  accepting  one  star's  invitation 
to  go  up  the  hill  in  his  automobile. 

"  I  should  think  you'd  have  a  boat  of  your 
own,"  said  the  star,  with  the  frank  disregard  for 
money  of  one  who  had,  less  than  two  years  before, 
been  in  vaudeville  for  forty  dollars  a  week. 

"  Can't  afford  it,"  said  Lansing,  cheerfully 
truthful,  and  knowing  that  to  tell  the  truth  was 
the  best  way  to  practice  deceit  in  any  branch  of 
the  amusement  business. 

"  Ha-ha !  "  laughed  the  star.  "  That's  a  good 
one !  " 

Lansing  knew  that  he  was  supposed  to  be  much 
better  off  than  he  was.  He  encouraged  this  belief, 
not  because  of  any  false  pride,  but  because  he 
hoped  that  Cramer  and  Howell  would  share  it. 
If  they  did,  they  might  be  a  little  more  careful, 
if  they  tried  to  spoil  the  success  of  "  Crandall's 
Revenge."  Their  ignorance  of  the  facts,  both  as 
to  his  finances  and  his  plans,  was  one  of  Lansing's 
best  assets.  He  hoped  that  they  were  counting  on 
his  comparative  inexperience;  that  they  thought, 
as  Martyn  had  done  in  the  beginning,  that  he  was 
trying  to  follow  a  road  that  the  failures  of  other 
men  had  already  proved  to  be  a  blind  alley. 
[186] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


r 

4        "  Here    you    are,"    said 
the  star,  at  last.   "  I'll  drop 
you  —  if  I  don't  get  to  the  shop 
pretty  soon  old  Haines  will  have 
a  fit." 

"  Fine  —  much  obliged,"  said 
Lansing;  "  when  my  ship  comes 
home  I'll  return  the  compliment." 

He  had  only  a  short  distance  to  walk.  The 
studio  was  a  makeshift  affair,  built  up  around  the 
nucleus  of  an  abandoned  barn.  And  he  was  sur- 
prised to  see  two  or  three  of  the  principals  sun- 
ning themselves  outside  as  he  walked  up  to  the 
office.  Inside,  Lathrop,  Martyn's  assistant  and 
property  man  as  well,  was  going  over  a  list  of 
small  items  that  had  lent  verisimilitude  to  a  scene 
[187] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


in  an  English  country  house,  and  must  now  be 
returned  to  the  theatrical  warehouse  from  which 
they  had  been  hired.  He  nodded  to  Lansing  and 
bent  over  his  work  again. 

Lansing  went  on  into  the  studio,  which  should 
have  been  a  scene  of  bustling  activity.  It  wasn't. 
Morgan,  looking  supremely  bored,  was  reading  a 
London  newspaper.  Others  of  the  cast  stood  and 
sat  around.  But  of  Martyn  there  was  no  sign. 
Mary  Brewster  came  to  him  with  a  rush. 

"Oh  —  I'm  so  glad  you're  here!"  she  said. 
"It's  happened  —  what  I  was  afraid  of  when 
I  wired!  Mr.  Martyn  isn't  here." 

"  So  I  see !  "  said  Lansing.  "  What  made  you 
think  he  wouldn't  be?  " 

"  He  was  very  peculiar  yesterday,"  she  said. 
"  Especially  after  we  stopped  for  lunch.  Usually, 
you  know,  he  grudges  us  ten  minutes.  But  yester- 
day we  were  all  back  and  waiting  for  half  an 
hour  before  he  came.  And  afterward  we  couldn't 
do  anything  to  please  him.  He  and  Mr.  Morgan 
had  the  most  dreadful  row!  I  was  out  of  the 
picture  for  nearly  an  hour,  while  they  made  the 
club  scene,  and  I  slipped  down  to  Hovey's  and 
telephoned  that  telegram  to  you.  I'd  happened 
[188] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


to  hear  Mr.  Martyn  say  where  you  were  going 
to  be.     And  —  that's  not  all  —  " 

"  It's  pretty  nearly  enough,"  said  Lansing 
grimly.  "  Go  ahead!  " 

"  Mr.  Martyn  let  us  off  early.  He  said  we 
were  all  working  like  dogs,  and  he  was  tired  of  it. 
And  he  went  off  in  a  big  touring  car  with  Ed 
Rackett,  of  the  Iris  studio !  " 

"  The  dickens  !  "  said  Lansing.  He  knew  Rack- 
ett; every  on.e  did  know  the  big  Iris  director,  who 
had  a  reputation  from  California  to  Florida  as 
a  "  good  fellow."  He  and  Martyn,  as  Lansing 
knew,  had  been  great  friends  once.  And  —  Cra- 
mer was  supposed,  since  his  break  with  Hazzard, 
to  be  one  of  the  principal  backers  of  the  Iris 
Film  Corporation.  It  didn't  require  the  methods 
of  Sherlock  Holmes  to  lead  Lansing  to  the  deduc- 
tion that  his  enemies  had  succeeded  in  striking 
their  first  blow. 

"  All  right!  "  said  Lansing.  "  Good  for  you, 
Miss  Brewster!  I'll  take  hold  right  away." 

He  went  back  to  Lathrop. 

"  Where's  Martyn?  "  he  ashed. 

"I  don't  know!"  said  Lathrop.     He  lifted 
sullen  eyes  to  meet  Lansing's  frank  gaze. 
[189] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Yes,  you  do,"  said  Lansing.  "  He's  gone  off 
on  a  toot,  and  you  know  it  as  well  as  I  do.  Look 
here,  Lathrop  —  I  suppose  you  figure  that  Martyn 
hired  you,  and  you  owe  him  your  loyalty,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing.  I  don't  know  how  much  he's 
told  you  about  this  deal  we're  putting  through. 
But  I'll  tell  you  now,  if  he  hasn't,  that  it's  big,  and 
that  we're  working  against  time  to  get  it  finished. 
And  —  you're  taking  my  pay." 

"  I  don't  know  where  he's  gone,"  said  Lathrop, 
still  sullen.  "  If  you  think  I'm  taking  your  money 
without  working  for  you  I'll  quit  —  " 

"  Forget  it !  "  said  Lansing.  "  Cliff's  going  to 
be  just  as  sore  at  himself  when  he  comes  to  as  I 
am.  He's  got  as  much  at  stake  as  I  have,  too. 
What  I  want  you  to  do  is  to  go  on  in  there  and 
get  those  people  to  work.  You  can  make  a  few 
scenes.  Maybe  he'll  throw  them  out  when  he 
comes  back,  but  the  thing  is  to  keep  them  work- 
ing. It'll  be  demoralizing  if  they  hang  around  and 
wait  for  him.  And  —  if  you  know  where  to  find 
Martyn,  you'd  better  get  word  to  him  that  I'm 
after  him." 

Lathrop  got  up. 

"  I'll  put  them  to  work,  all  right,"  he  said. 
[  190] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  But  we'll  just  waste  the  film.  He'll  never  stand 
for  any  one's  butting  in  on  his  work." 

"  All  right  —  waste  it,  then.  Anyhow,  get 
busy.  And  call  me  up  tonight  at  nine  o'clock.  I 
may  need  you.  Here's  my  number." 

He  went  down  the  hill  then,  and  had  recourse 
first  to  the  telephone  in  Hovey's,  the  general  store 
that  had  acquired  a  new  lease  of  life  and  general 
prosperity  since  the  movies  had  come.  As  he  ex- 
pected, the  Iris  studio  reported  that  Rackett  was 
"  away."  Out  of  town,  it  was  believed.  Then, 
systematically,  Lansing  called  up  every  one  of  the 
places  Martyn  had  been  wont  to  favor.  In  none 
of  them  had  he  been  seen.  He  called  Mary 
Brewster,  on  top  of  the  hill,  and  asked  for  what 
he  had  forgotten  before  —  a  description  of  the 
car  in  which  Rackett  and  Martyn  had  left  the 
studio.  Here  he  struck  his  first  bit  of  luck.  Rack- 
ett, like  most  of  the  people  connected  in  any  way 
with  the  amusement  business,  thought  of  publicity 
as  he  did  of  food  and  drink.  The  car  was  a 
quiet,  tastefully  decorated  affair,  bright  yellow, 
with  touches  of  salmon  pink.  Mary  Brewster 
thought  there  was,  probably,  only  one  such  car 
in  the  world. 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"Armed  with  that  piece  of  information,  Lansing 
took  up  the  trail.  He  telephoned  to  a  Hoboken 
garage,  that  was  sometimes  called  upon  to  supply 
cars  for  pictures,  and  hired  the  services  of  a 
chauffeur  and  a  high-speed  runabout.  He  stipu- 
lated that  the  chauffeur  should  have  an  intimate 
acquaintance  with  the  road  houses  of  northern 
New  Jersey.  When  the  car  arrived  the  driver 
bent  a  judicial  eye  upon  him. 

"  All  alone  ?  "  he  said.  "  I  rather  guessed  you'd 
have  company,  and  I  brought  a  three-seater." 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  Lansing,  weighing  him. 
"  What's  your  name,  and  do  you  like  twenty- 
dollar  bills?" 

"  My  name's  Steve,  and  I  eat  'em,"  said  the 
driver. 

"  If  we're  pinched  I'll  put  up  bail,  or  pay 
double  wages  while  you're  in  jail,"  said  Lansing. 
"  There's  no  telling  just  what  we  may  have  to  do." 

"Sure  —  sure  not!"  said  Steve  sympathetic- 
ally. "  I  ain't  got  no  use  for  these  people  that's 
always  planning  things  out  ahead.  I'd  rather 
not  rob  a  bank,  and  if  it's  murder  I'd  like  to  select 
the  corpse.  But  anything  else  I'll  —  " 

"  Only  what  they  might  call  atrocious  assault, 
[192] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


here  in  Jersey,  and  a  little  kidnaping  on  the  side, 
perhaps,"  said  Lansing.  "  Now  listen.  Suppose 
you'd  started  from  about  here  yesterday  afternoon 
in  a  bright-yellow  car  with  salmon-pink  trim- 
mings—  where  would  you  be  most  likely  to  be 
now?" 

"  Was  I  thirsty  when  I  started?  " 

"  You  were  —  and  then  some !  " 

"  Well,"  said  Steve,  throwing  in  the  clutch,  "  I 
might  be  one  place,  and  then  again  I  might  be 
another.  Let's  go  see.  I'm  beginning  to  make 
you,  boss." 

On  the  whole,  Lansing  felt,  he  had  fared  well 
in  his  chauffeur.  Steve  had  the  air  of  one  who 
was  in  the  habit  of  starting  what  he  finished.  And 
he  did  not  seem  to  be  overburdened  with  scruples. 
They  started  for  the  open  country,  where  road 
houses  lend  a  certain  distinction  to  the  rather  flat 
rural  portions  of  the  State  of  New  Jersey. 

The  way  was  long,  and  it  was  dusty.  And  yet 
it  seemed  that  Ed  Rackett  had  maintained  a  con- 
siderable discretion.  They  traveled  many  miles 
before  their  inquiries  bore  fruit.  And  then,  not 
very  far  from  Trenton,  they  came  to  a  wayside 
inn  that  remembered  the  yellow  car  hopefully. 
[  193] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Hopefully,  because  its  occupants  had  promised  to 
return  on  the  homeward  trip. 

"  Very  lively  gentlemen,  they  were,  sir,"  said 
the  host.  "  They  said  they  were  going  to  cross 
the  Delaware  on  the  ice,  like  Washington,  and 
hoped  they  wouldn't  have  to  wait  too  long  for  it 
to  freeze." 

After  that  the  trail  grew  warmer.  Two  road 
houses  out  of  three,  at  least,  fulfilled  the  function 
of  blazed  trees  in  a  woods  path.  The  way  led 
them  down  into  a  country  where  the  salt  air  from 
the  sea  mingled  in  their  nostrils  with  the  vigorous 
breath  of  the  pines. 

"  I've  got  their  number  now,"  said  Steve,  in 
a  place  called  Hammonton.  He  spoke  with  in- 
tense satisfaction.  "  They'll  be  in  Atlantic  City. 
That's  where  I  guessed,  but  we  had  to  make  sure." 

"  Too  bad,"  said  Lansing.  "  If  we  have  to  do 
business  on  the  board  walk  I'm  afraid  we  may 
attract  too  much  attention.  But  —  " 

"  We'll  invite  'em  to  some  nice,  private  spot," 
suggested  Steve. 

They  found  the  yellow  car,  minus  one  lamp, 
and  somewhat  bruised  as  to  its  mud  guards,  in  a 
garage.  And  later  they  learned  that  even  Atlan- 

[194] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


tic  City,  which  is  indifferent  to  most  celebrations 
that  involve  alcohol,  was  disposed  to  sit  up  and 
take  notice  of  Rackett  and  Martyn.  Even  so,  it 
took  some  time  to  find  them.  But  Lansing  and 
Martyn  came  face  to  face  at  last,  near  the  Inlet. 
Rackett  was  there,  too,  but  he  was  not  alert.  It 
was  easy  for  Steve  to  persuade  him  that  they 
were  old  and  bosom  friends,  the  while  that  Lan- 
sing led  Martyn  down  from  the  board  walk  to 
the  beach. 


[195] 


CHAPTER  XVI 

MARTYN  remembered  Lansing  very  well 
indeed,  it  seemed  —  only  not  as  Lansing. 
In  five  minutes,  down  on  the  beach,  with  the  surf 
pounding  in  his  ears,  Lansing  heard  himself  hailed 
as  Christopher  Columbus,  as  Thomas  A.  Edison, 
and  as  Johnny  Evers,  of  the  Boston  Braves,  all,  it 
seemed,  intimate  friends  of  Martyn.  If  the  thing 
hadn't  been  so  serious,  so  infuriating  because  of 
the  possibilities  of  disaster  involved,  it  would  have 
been  wildly  funny.  But  Lansing  didn't  find  it  at 
all  hard  to  overcome  what  little  inclination  to 
laughter  Martyn's  condition  aroused  in  him. 
Disgust  very  soon  overcame  every  other  emotion. 
And  disgust  brought  with  it  the  desire  for  action. 
The  case  was  one  that  called  for  heroic  treatment, 
and  it  received  just  that. 

Salt  water,  plentifully  applied,  worked  won- 
ders. Taking  the  chance  of  being  seen  from  the 
almost  deserted  board  walk,  Lansing  took  his  vic- 
tim down  to  the  water's  edge,  first  relieving  him 
of  coat  and  shirt,  and  held  him  forcibly  in  a  place 
[196] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


where  the  big  waves,  rolling  in,  must  break  on 
him.  At  the  first  shock  of  the  cold  water  Martyn 
almost  got  away.  But  Lansing  was  too  much  for 
him,  and  he  had  to  take  his  medicine.  Each  wave 


added  to  the  effect;  ten  minutes,  in  which  they 
were  both  soaked,  did  the  work.  Martyn  was  still 
far  from  being  his  normal  self,  but  he  had  trav- 
eled a  long  way  on  the  road  back  to  consciousness 
and  understanding,  and  he  recognized  Lansing. 

"I   don't  know  how  this   started!"   he   said. 
"Say  — I'm  sorry  —  " 

[197] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  You're  not  half  as  sorry  as  you're  going  to 
be,"  Lansing  told  him  grimly.  "  And  I  know  how 
it  started,  too.  You  didn't  have  the  backbone  to 
refuse  to  take  a  drink.  Lord,  I  thought  I  could 
trust  you !  " 

He  said  a  good  deal  more,  and  it  was  an  indi- 
cation of  Martyn's  chastened  mood  that  he  did  not 
resent  anything.  Martyn  was  humble,  and  he  was 
contrite.  And  he  didn't  say  a  word  when  they 
got  back  to  the  board  walk,  and  Lansing  sent 
Steve  for  the  car. 

"  Bring  it  to  the  bottom  of  the  ramp  that  leads 
down  from  the  board  walk  here,"  he  said.  "  And 
hustle." 

Rackett  was  surveying  them  with  a  glazed,  in- 
quiring eye.  He  wanted  to  know  if  Lansing  was 
Martyn's  friend.  Then  he  wanted  to  celebrate 
the  reunion.  And  finally  he  went  to  sleep.  Mar- 
tyn thought  they  ought  not  to  leave  him. 

"  It  wasn't  his  fault !  "  he  said  generously.  "  I 
just  happened  to  be  with  him,  Bob." 

"  I  know.    And  you're  going  to  happen  to  go 

home  with  me,  the  same  way.     Don't  you  know 

yet  that  he  laid  for  you?    He  knew  you  better 

than  I  did  —  and  so  did  the  crowd  who  sent  him 

[198] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


to  get  you  away  from  the  picture!  They  knew 
you'd  backslide  the  minute  you  saw  a  good 
chance." 

Martyn  was  too  tired  to  argue.  And  he  was  a 
good  deal  ashamed  of  himself,  too.  The  salt 
water  hadn't  fully  cleared  his  brain,  because  he 
had  gone  too  far  for  any  treatment  to  do  that 
without  a  night's  sleep  to  aid  it.  And  he  had  no 
more  than  got  into  the  car  when  he  was  snoring. 

"  This  the  kidnaping?  "  asked  Steve.  "  Looks 
pretty  easy." 

"  It  was  —  but  I  couldn't  know  he'd  come  so 
peaceably.  Don't  worry,  though.  We'll  get 
action  before  we're  through.  It's  only  postponed, 
not  called  off." 

It  was  pretty  late,  but  nothing  was  farther 
from  Lansing's  thoughts  than  spending  the  night 
in  the  resort  city.  His  one  object  was  to  get 
Martyn  back  to  the  studio  in  time  to  start  work 
at  the  regular  hour  the  next  morning.  Lansing's 
mouth  was  set  in  a  hard,  straight  line,  and  there 
was  a  vicious  glint  in  his  eyes.  He  remembered 
the  combined  promise  and  threat  he  had  made  to 
Martyn,  and  he  was  awaiting  the  time  for  its  ful- 
fillment. Steve  drove  on,  with  a  cheerful  disre- 
[  199] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


gard  for  speed  laws  and  his  own  fatigue,  and 
Lansing  waited.  It  was  already  a  little  light  in 
the  east  when  Martyn  gave  signs  of  life,  and 
finally  roused  himself.  He  looked  sheepishly  at 
Lansing  as  memory  came  to  him. 

"  Gee!  "  he  said.  "  I  guess  I  made  an  awful 
ass  of  myself!  How  did  you  find  me?  I'm  glad 
you  did." 

"  Stop  her!  "  said  Lansing  to  Steve.  He  turned 
to  Martyn.  "  Feeling  pretty  rotten?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  sure  am,"  said  Martyn.     "  Never  again!  " 

"  That's  what  you  said  before,"  said  Lansing. 
He  took  off  his  coat  and  slipped  out  of  his  seat. 
"  Come  on!  "  he  said.  "  Remember  what  I  told 
you  would  happen  if  you  didn't  stick  to  our  agree- 
ment? " 

"  Oh,  come  on  —  I  didn't  mean  to  do  it,  and 
I'm  sorry  —  " 

"I  keep  my  word!"  said  Lansing  briefly. 
"  Help  him  out,  Steve.  I'm  going  through  with 
the  atrocious  assault  now.  I'm  going  to  do  a  low- 
down,  dirty  thing.  I'm  going  to  hit  a  man  when 
he's  in  no  condition  to  give  me  a  scrap !  " 

"  Your  funeral,"  said  Steve  indifferently,  light- 
ing a  cigarette. 

[  200  ]   .   . 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Say  —  I'll  admit  I'm  not  feeling  right,"  said 
Martyn  dangerously.  "  But  if  you  think  I  can't 
fight—" 

"  I  hope  you  can,"  said  Lansing  cheerfully. 
"  I  can  lick  you  much  worse  if  you  can  put  up  a 
halfway  decent  scrap." 

And  he  proceeded,  very  thoroughly,  but  very 
dispassionately,  to  make  good  his  threats.  He 
wasn't  angry  any  more.  He  understood  almost 
as  well  as  if  he  had  seen  the  whole  affair  how  Mar- 
tyn had  been  tricked  into  this  breach  of  their 
compact.  And  he  knew,  too,  that  Martyn  was 
still  very  much  under  the  influence  of  the  liquor 
he  had  drunk.  He  had  seen  drinkers  like  Martyn 
before.  He  understood  the  peculiar  psychology 
that  had  been  at  work. 

Martyn  had  kept  sober  as  long  as  he  had  for 
several  reasons.  One  was  his  own  desire  to  make 
good,  another  his  self-respect.  But,  among  the 
others,  a  certain  awe  of  Lansing  had  been,  in  all 
probability,  predominant.  He  hadn't  consciously 
been  afraid  of  Lansing;  he  might,  when  he  was 
normal,  have  forgotten  Lansing's  threats.  But 
subconsciously,  the  impression  of  them  had 
lingered.  He  had  broken  his  word  in  a  sort  of 

[201] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


defiance  curiously  like  that  of  a  child  deliberately 
doing  what  it  has  been  told  not  to  do.  Nervous 
strain,  exhaustion,  had  induced  the  mood.  And  if 
Martyn  went  back  to  work,  he  would  be  under  a 
more  severe  nervous  strain  than  he  had  yet  under- 
gone; he  would  come  even  closer  to  exhaustion. 
Lansing  felt  that  it  was  vitally  important  to  re- 
enforce  that  lurking  fear  that  had  helped  to  keep 
Martyn  straight,  so  that,  the  next  time  the  defiant 
mood  came  upon  him,  there  might  be  something 
to  offset  it. 

So  there  was  nothing  as  petty  as  a  desire  to  vent 
his  anger  in  his  determination  to  make  good  his 
threat.  He  was  simply  applying  what  he  knew  of 
psychology  to  the  case,  which  did  not  prevent  him 
from  doing  the  business  in  a  manner  that  evoked 
Steve's  warm  approval  and  respectful  admiration. 
It  was  a  most  scientific  thrashing  that  Martyn  had 
to  take. 

"  And  never  a  mark  on  his  face  for  any  one 
to  see  in  the  morning,"  said  Steve,  when  matters 
were  settled. 

"  Exactly,"  said  Lansing.  "  You'll  feel  better 
pretty  soon,  Martyn.  Sorry  —  but  it  had  to  be 
done." 

[202] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


It  was  a 

most  scientific 

thrashing 


Martyn  said  nothing  at  all.  But  he  was  think- 
ing pretty  hard.  On  the  ferry,  as  they  crossed  to 
Cortlandt  Street,  he  turned  to  Lansing  suddenly. 

"  I  understand,  I  guess,"  he  said.  "  If  I  go 
wild  again  the  way  I  did  before  I  started  out  with 
Ed  Rackett  I'll  remember  that  scrap.  I  wish  you'd 
been  around.  Morgan  drove  me  crazy.  Say  — 
I  think  he's  trying  to  make  trouble.  His  con- 
tract's  binding,  isn't  it?  " 

[203] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  As  much  so  as  any  contract,"  said  Lansing. 
"  But  I  wouldn't  worry  about  him,  Cliff.  Keep 
hold  of  yourself,  and  everything  else  will  be  all 
right" 

"  I've  had  my  blow-out,"  said  Martyn,  flushing. 
"  Lord  —  feel  that  wind,  coming  up  off  the  bay !  " 

Lansing  gave  Steve  Martyn's  address.  When 
they  came  to  the  boarding  house  he  had  a  new 
idea. 

"  Go  in  and  pack  some  fresh  clothes  in  a  bag, 
Cliff,"  he  said.  "  Then  we'll  run  up  to  my  joint. 
You  can  have  a  cold  shower  there,  and  I  guess 
we  can  all  do  with  some  breakfast.  I'll  cook  that 
myself." 

It  was  so  ordered,  except  that  Steve  insisted  on 
doing  the  cooking.  And  while  he  filled  the  little 
apartment  with  the  savory  smell  of  frying  bacon 
and  hot  coffee  Lansing  made  Martyn  lie  down, 
and  pounded  and  rubbed  and  kneaded  until  his 
skin  glowed  pink,  and  the  muscles  were  smooth 
and  resilient. 

"  Now  the  shower  —  cold,  as  it  runs !  "  he  said. 
"  Then  you'll  feel  like  a  new  man." 

Over   his   second   cup    of   coffee,    he   yawned 
luxuriously  and  looked  at  his  watch. 
[204] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  The  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard,  Cliff," 
he  said.  "  Time  for  you  to  be  off.  Take  him  over 
to  Fort  Lee,  Steve,  and  drop  him  at  the  studio." 

Martyn  stared  at  him. 

"Aren't  you  coming?"  he  asked,  astonished. 

"  I  ?  Lord,  no !  I'm  going  to  turn  in.  I've  got 
some  arrears  of  sleep  to  make  up,  thanks  to  you, 
Cliff." 

"  I  suppose  this  chauffeur  wouldn't  let  me  go 
anywhere  but  to  the  studio?  "  said  Martyn,  after 
a  minute,  sullenly.  It  was  a  last  flaring  up  of  the 
devils  of  nervousness  and  desire  that  had  precipi- 
tated his  escapade. 

"  You  haven't  got  any  orders  like  that  from  me, 
have  you,  Steve?  "  said  Lansing.  And  the  driver 
shook  his  head.  "  Don't  be  a  fool,  Cliff !  "  Lan- 
sing went  on.  "  What  happened  last  night's 
rubbed  off  the  slate.  You're  not  going  to  do  it 
again.  You're  going  back,  and  you're  going  to 
work  more  like  a  dog  than  ever.  By  the  way  — 
I  haven't  had  a  chance  to  tell  you.  I  got  the 
Apollo." 

Martyn's  eyes  brightened.  His  hand  came  out 
heartily. 

"  Now  that's  something  like,"  he  said.    "  Good 

[205] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


work!     Bully  for  youl     Come  on,  there,  Steve, 
I've  got  to  get  on  the  job." 

From  the  window,  Lansing  watched  them  drive 
off.  His  last  thought,  before  he  dropped  off  to 
sleep,  a  few  minutes  later,  was  of  Cramer  and 
Howell.  Their  first  blow  had  failed  to  strike 
home.  Where  would  the  next  one  be  aimed? 
But  the  thought  didn't  keep  him  awake. 


[206] 


CHAPTER  XVII 

E.NSING  slept  through  most  of  the  day,  and 
woke  up,  hungry  and  fresh,  about  five  o'clock. 
Another  icy  shower  finished  the  process  of  re- 
furbishing, and  he  went  downtown  for  a  sort  of 
combined  breakfast  and  dinner.  When  Debrett 
passed  through  the  restaurant  he  hailed  him.  He 
liked  the  cynical  little  journalist  —  there  really 
is  no  other  word  to  describe  him,  much  as  Debrett 
would  have  resented  such  a  title,  after  his  news- 
paper training.  If  Debrett  was  looking  out  for 
the  main  chance  all  the  time,  and  if  he  had  few 
scruples  as  to  how  he  got  money,  so  that  he  got 
it,  he  was  frank  about  it,  at  least,  unlike  most  of 
the  walkers  of  the  Rialto. 

"Hello!"  said  Debrett.  He  sat  down  and 
gave  his  order.  "  I've  been  meaning  to  look  you 
up.  What  are  you  trying  to  bring  off?  " 

"  Nothing  much,"  said  Lansing  innocently. 
"  We're  just  making  a  feature  that  looks  rather 
good  to  us." 

"  So?  "  said  Debrett.  "  You've  got  Cliff  Mar- 
[207] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


tyn  for  your  director.  You've  rigged  up  a  patch- 
work studio.  You've  bought  the  film  rights  of 
'  Crandall's  Revenge,'  and  you're  making  a  five- 
reel  feature  of  it.  Cliff  went  on  a  bender  night 
before  last,  and  you  followed  him  down  to  Atlan- 
tic City  and  brought  him  back.  Before  that  you 
took  a  lease  on  the  Apollo  Theater  in  Adelphia 
and  gave  Max  Roth  five  hundred  dollars  to  bind 
the  bargain.  And  you  haven't  been  near  any 
of  the  regular  people  who  buy  or  lease  films  — 
State's-rights  men  or  exchanges  or  any  one  else. 
Anything  else  about  your  recent  movements  you'd 
like  to  know?  " 

Lansing  gasped,  and  stared  at  him.  And  he  had 
supposed  that  his  tracks  were  well  covered !  De- 
brett  sat  and  grinned. 

"  How  do  you  know  all  this?  "  Lansing  asked 
finally. 

Debrett  closed  one  eye  and  opened  it  again  in 
a  prodigious  wink. 

"  I've  got  my  own  sources  of  information,"  he 
said.  "  And  one  reason  is  that  I've  never  split  on 
any  one  who  told  me  anything  —  and  I  never  will. 
If  you  ever  get  into  this  game  that's  something 
to  remember.  You  don't  need  any  morals  —  I 
[208] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


gave  'em  up  years  ago.  You  can  get  away  with 
about  anything  short  of  murder  or  sticking  up 
some  guy  that's  got  a  pull  at  head-quarters.  But 
—  if  you  start  blowing  on  the  people  that  give  you 
tips  you're  through.  It's  enough  for  you  to  know 
I  know  all  this.  If  I  know  it,  some  other  people 
do,  too.  And  if  you  can  think  of  any  one  who's 
in  a  position  to  crab  your  game  because  they  know 
you'd  better  act  accordingly.  I  haven't  told  you 
anything  —  see  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  said  Lansing.  "  And  I'm  just  as 
much  obliged  as  if  you  had.  Is  that  about  all 
you  know?  " 

"  Ye-es,"  said  Debrett  regretfully.  "  It  is  right 
now.  But  by  tomorrow  I  ought  to  be  able  to  tell 
you  the  size  of  your  bank  roll." 

"  I  think  not!  "  said  Lansing,  with  decision. 

He  understood  the  significance  of  the  state- 
ment. And  he  had  known  from  the  first,  anyhow, 
that  it  would  be  vitally  important  to  keep  possible 
enemies  from  discovering  the  real  thinness  of  the 
ice  on  which  he  was  skating.  Debrett,  of  course, 
had  really  told  him  a  good  deal.  He  had  strength- 
ened the  inference  Lansing  had  drawn  from  the 
attempt  to  corrupt  Martyn.  Some  one  was  suffi- 
[  209] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


ciently  interested  in  his  movements  and  plans  to 
have  spied  upon  him  —  very  successfully.  It  was 
a  fair  guess  that  from  now  on  matters  would  move 
fast;  that  there  would  be  a  definite  attempt  to 
prevent  the  finishing  of  "  Crandall's  Revenge," 
and,  if  that  failed,  to  prevent  its  production. 

There  was  every  reason,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
why  there  should  be  such  an  attempt.  The  more 
Lansing  thought  of  his  method  of  reaching  the 
public,  greater  did  its  possibilities  seem  to  be.  And 
it  threw  open  the  whole  movie  business  to  a  host 
of  people  who  hadn't  yet  seen  a  chance  to  dabble 
in  it.  If  he  succeeded,  and  he  felt  sure,  now,  of 
success,  any  one  with  the  money  to  spend  could 
follow  in  his  footsteps.  He  would  bring  about  the 
open  market  at  which  Hazzard  and  his  enemies 
alike  had  scoffed.  The  little  theaters  would  no 
longer  be  obliged  to  take  what  the  exchanges  chose 
to  give  them  —  they  could  take  what  they  liked, 
wherever  they  liked.  The  whole  industry  would 
have  to  turn  to  the  production  of  good  films,  qual- 
ity films,  and  the  possibility  of  a  vast,  closed  cor- 
poration, making  ninety-five  per  cent  of  all  the 
films  released,  would  pass  forever.  Not  that  this 
condition  wouldn't  come  anyhow,  whether  he 
[  210] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


failed  or  succeeded.  He  knew  it  would,  and  had 
seen  it  almost  from  the  beginning.  But  —  he 
wanted  to  be  the  pioneer,  the  man  who  blazed  the 
trail. 

Debrett  hadn't  improved  his  appetite.  He  hur- 
ried through  the  rest  of  his  meal  and  made  an 
excuse  to  get  away  from  the  man,  who  had  half  a 
dozen  suggestions  for  the  rest  of  the  evening.  As 
he  left  the  place  he  caromed  into  Hazzard,  who 
caught  him  by  the  shoulder  and  held  him  fast. 
Hazzard  was  in  one  of  his  most  jovial,  expansive 
moods.  He  bore  Lansing  in  with  him  and  planted 
him  at  his  table,  roaring  as  he  did  so,  so  that 
every  one  in  the  restaurant  turned  to  stare  at  him. 
But  when  he  really  began  to  speak  his  voice 
couldn't  be  heard  at  the  next  table. 

"  Look  here,  son!  "  he  said.  "  I  handed  it  to 
you  pretty  rough  when  you  said  you  wanted  to  sell 
your  stock.  I  thought  you  were  scared.  But  I 
guess  you  weren't.  If  you're  going  to  stay  in  this 
business,  we  ought  to  be  together.  I'll  make  you 
a  proposition.  Bring  this  feature  you're  making 
along  and  come  back.  It  can  be  released  under 
one  of  our  brands,  and  then  you  won't  be  taking 
any  chances.  You  can  turn  in  a  statement  of  what 

[211] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


it's  cost  you  as  far  as  you've  gone.  We'll  make 
good  on  that,  and  take  over  any  contracts  you've 
got." 

"  Sorry,"  said  Lansing.  "  But  this  is  my  own 
gamble.  I'll  have  to  play  the  hand  as  it  lies." 

Hazzard's  face  was  swept  by  one  of  those  sud- 
den storms  of  passion,  so  terrifying  to  those  who 
were  not  used  to  the  man,  which  he  seemed  always 
to  be  able  to  call  up  at  the  right  moment. 

"  You've  seen  me  in  action,"  he  said  savagely. 
"  What  chance  do  you  think  you've  got  against 
me  if  Cramer  and  Howell,  with  all  that's  behind 
them,  couldn't  beat  me?  I'm  giving  you  a  chance 
to  come  in  out  of  the  rain  —  and  I'm  telling  you 
it's  going  to  rain  pretty  hard!  " 

"  I'm  sorry,"  said  Lansing  again,  "  but  I'm 
hanged  if  I  see  where  you  come  in,  Hazzard.  By 
George,  I  think  you've  got  an  awful  gall  I  You 
think  I've  got  a  good  thing,  and  you  try  to  hold 
me  up  for  a  piece  of  it  by  telling  me  you'll  try 
to  break  me  if  I  don't  hand  it  over!  Isn't  that 
the  size  of  it?  " 

It  was  a  long  time  since  any  one  had  defied  Haz- 
zard in  such  fashion.  He  was  purple  with  anger, 
and  the  veins  in  his  forehead  were  swelling. 

[212] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  You  can't  bluff  me,  you  know,"  Lansing  went 
on,  getting  angrier  and  angrier  every  second. 
"  That's  how  you  beat  Cramer  and  Howell  —  and 
you  wouldn't  even  have  had  the  chance  to  bluff 
them  except  for  me.  I'm  going  to  keep  on  mind- 
ing my  own  business,  and  if  you  don't  want  to  get 
hurt,  you'd  better  do  the  same  thing.  Good 
night!" 

The  quarrel  with  Hazzard  wasn't  of  his  own 
seeking;  but,  as  he  went  out  into  the  street,  Lan- 
sing knew  that  it  had  done  him  a  world  of  good. 
He  had  been  close,  at  one  time,  to  falling  under 
the  spell  of  Jim  Hazzard's  personality.  Even 
now,  he  admired  the  big  man  as  much  as  he  had 
ever  done.  But  his  admiration  was  all  for  the 
primal,  brute  force  of  the  man  —  for  his  remorse- 
less smashing  through  whatever  barriers  might  lie 
between  himself  and  his  desire.  And  the  fact  that 
he  had  suddenly  become  such  a  barrier  was  bound 
to  temper  Lansing's  feelings.  He  felt  a  sort  of 
contempt  for  Hazzard  as  he  strode  uptown,  work- 
ing off  his  anger  with  the  exercise.  But  the  con- 
tempt lasted  only  until  the  first  flush  of  his  anger 
wore  off.  For  he  knew  that  Hazzard  could,  and 
would,  fight  if  he  had  to  —  that  there  were  other 
[213] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


weapons  in  his  arsenal  that  could  be  called  upon 
if  bluff  failed. 

"  Even  if  they  beat  me,  between  them,  they 
won't  win,"  he  thought,  as  he  walked  on.  "  Some 
one  else  will  come  along  and  do  what  I  couldn't 
do." 

The  thought  only  stiffened  his  resolution.  He 
decided  that  he  wouldn't  fight  the  worse  for  know- 
ing, positively,  that  he  had  enemies.  A  new  joy 
of  battle  came  to  him  that  mingled  with  the  de- 
light he  had  begun  to  feel  as  he  realized  that  he 
was  actually  doing  pioneer's  work.  He  swung 
aboard  a  bus  finally  and  climbed  to  its  top.  All 
the  way  up  Riverside  Drive,  he  could  look  over  to 
the  Palisades  and  see  the  flaming  lights  of  an 
amusement  park,  a  sort  of  Coney  Island  in  min- 
iature. That  glare  of  light  was  in  the  very  heart 
of  the  film  colony.  A  little  to  the  north  of  it  was 
the  very  heart  of  his  enterprise.  So  he  thought, 
as  he  looked.  He  was  wrong,  of  course.  The 
heart  of  that  enterprise  was  wherever  he  himself 
happened  to  be. 

He  found  Martyn  at  home,  tired  and  cheerful, 
exhausted  and  optimistic.  And,  though  it  savored 
of  cruel  and  unusual  punishment,  he  kept  the  di- 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


In  the  studio 


rector  up  for  three  hours,  talking  over  their  task. 

"  I  guess  my  break  didn't  do  much  harm,"  said 
Martyn,  "  Teddy  took  hold  in  fine  style  —  so  far 
as  I  can  see,  the  scenes  he  made  will  fit  in  all 
right.  We've  made  something  over  thirty-five  hun- 
dred feet  of  film.  I  suppose  we'll  have  to  make 
nearly  as  much  more.  Then  I'll  start  cutting.  It's 
a  big  wastage,  but  I'm  trying  some  new  things, 
and  I've  had  to  give  myself  room  to  make  a  choice 
here  and  there.  About  three  weeks  more  ought 
to  see  us  through.  Your  Brewster  girl  is  a  won- 
der. Morgan's  better  than  I  ever  dreamed  he'd 
be  —  but  he's  cutting  up,  just  as  I  told  you." 

"What's  his  trouble?" 
[215] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  He  doesn't  know,  but  I  guess  it's  the  rush. 
He  has  to  get  an  effect  in  ten  feet  of  film  that  he 
uses  up  ten  minutes  to  get  on  the  stage  —  and 
he  can't  use  that  English  accent  of  his  to  help  out, 
either.  He  can't  see  the  importance  of  footage, 
and  I'm  tired  trying  to  make  him  see  it. 

"  But  you  needn't  worry.  We're  coming  on  all 
right.  Morgan's  beginning  to  get  the  hang  of 
things  much  better,  and  today  he  sized  up  a  cou- 
ple of  scenes  right  all  by  himself,  without  a  word 
from  me.  Brewster  bothers  him  a  little  —  he 
knows  how  good  she  is.  But  he  doesn't  quite  see 
why,  and  it  makes  him  fretty.  Of  course,  he 
hates  me.  I  suppose  that  over  in  England  they 
have  comic-paper  Americans,  like  our  comic-paper 
Englishmen.  And  he  thinks  I'd  make  a  fine  model 
for  a  series,  all  right.  When  this  is  over  I'm 
going  to  buy  him  a  drink  and  —  " 

He  stopped,  flushing. 

"  Take  him  to  tea  somewhere  —  it'll  make 
more  of  a  hit  with  him,"  suggested  Lansing,  with 
a  grin.  "  By  the  way,  Cliff  —  I  don't  want  to 
rake  up  what's  over  with.  But  you  thought  Ed 
Rackett  just  happened  to  come  along.  Listen!  " 

And  then  he  told  him  of  his  talk  with  Debrett. 
[216] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Martyn,  of  course,  knew  Debrett  very  well,  and 
he  listened,  with  rising  anger  and  wonder. 

"  You  see,  we  thought  we  were  being  careful," 
said  Lansing.  "  But  we  weren't  careful  enough. 
Now  you  can  go  to  bed." 

"How  about  Roth?"  said  Martyn  thought- 
fully. "Think  you  can  trust  him?  Don't  you 
suppose  it's  he  that's  given  away  that  part  of  the 
game?" 

"  I  don't  see  why  he  should,"  said  Lansing. 
"  I  don't  trust  him  —  or  distrust  him,  either,  for 
that  matter.  Seems  to  me  he  doesn't  count  at  all. 
And  I  suppose  there  are  plenty  of  ways  they  could 
have  found  out  I  was  doing  business  with  him 
without  getting  it  from  him.  I  think  he'll  play 
fair  for  he  needs  us  as  badly  as  we  need  him. 
If  the  picture  makes  good  he  saves  his  theater 
and  gets  a  new  stake.  If  it  doesn't  he's  done." 

"  Well,  he'll  bear  watching,  anyhow,"  said 
Martyn.  "  I've  just  got  a  hunch  that  that's  our 
weak  spot.  You  want  to  make  awful  sure  that 
nothing  can  keep  us  out  of  the  Apollo  when  we're 
ready." 

"  I  wish  everything  else  were  as  sure  as  that!  " 
laughed  Lansing.    "So  long  I" 
[217] 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

E.NSING  was  up  and  out  early  the  next  morn- 
ing, with  a  score  of  trifling  things  to  keep  his 
morning  occupied.  He  saw  two  or  three  men  who 
might  do  for  the  important  job  of  getting  scien- 
tific publicity  for  "  Crandall's  Revenge  "  in  its  new 
form;  publicity  specialists,  these,  and  far  ahead  of 
the  old-fashioned  press  agent.  These  men  he 
sounded  cautiously  and  tentatively;  until  he  made 
his  choice,  he  didn't  intend  to  be  lavish  with  infor- 
mation. And  other  tasks  kept  him  busy  until 
lunch  time,  when,  foregoing  that  pleasant  meal,  he 
crossed  the  river  and  made  for  the  studio.  Not 
once  all  morning  was  he  where  he  might  reason- 
ably have  been  expected  to  be,  and  so  all  of  Mar- 
tyn's  frantic  efforts  to  reach  him  by  telephone 
had  been  vain. 

He  knew  something  had  gone  wrong  as  soon 
as  he  saw  Martyn's  face.  When  he  went  in  a 
scene  was  being  made.  Mary  Brewster  was 
working  alone,  at  the  moment,  in  a  close-up,  and 
Martyn  didn't  check  the  action  to  speak  to  him. 

[2,8] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Sitting  on  his  stool,  just  under  the  camera,  he 
glanced  around  once,  and  went  on.  But  his  face 
was  eloquent,  and  it  spoke  of  trouble  —  of  trou- 
ble spelled  with  a  big  T.  And  when  the  scene  was 
finished  he  turned  to  Lathrop. 

"  Get  the  extras  and  make  that  scene  of  the 
run  on  the  bank  —  the  exterior,"  he  directed. 
"  The  set-up's  all  ready.  We'll  need  about  a 
hundred  feet  —  we'll  be  cutting  back  and  forth, 
and  we  can  repeat  on  some  of  the  action." 

Lathrop  nodded  and  sprang  into  life,  vitalizing 
as  well  the  group  of  extra  people  who  were  loung- 
ing at  one  side,  and  Martyn  came  over  to  Lan- 
sing. 

"  Did  you  get  any  of  my  messages?  "  he  asked. 
Lansing's  face  supplied  the  negative  answer. 
"  Morgan's  quit!  "  said  Martyn. 

"Quit!  What  do  you  mean?"  said  Lansing 
slowly.  "  Why  —  he  can't  quit !  He's  got  a 
contract  that  would  be  binding  in  any  court  I  " 

"  Well  —  he's  quit  just  the  same !  Don't  tell 
me  he  can't  —  because  he's  done  it.  Suppose  his 
contract  is  binding.  You  can  go  ahead  and  sue, 
and  get  damages,  maybe.  What  good  will  they 
be?" 

[219] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Sometimes,  it  is  said,  a  man  who  has  been  shot 
will  go  on  for  several  seconds,  perhaps  even 
longer,  without  knowing  that  he  has  been  hit. 
Something  of  the  sort  was  true  of  Lansing  now. 
For  a  minute  he  was  filled  with  the  idea  that  it 
was  impossible  for  Morgan  to  have  quit,  because 
he  could  be  held  liable  for  breach  of  contract. 
Absurdly,  the  thing  that  brought  him  to  his  senses 
and  made  him  realize  the  truth  was  a  sudden  mem- 
ory of  George  Ade's  old  quip  about  the  man 
whose  lawyer  visited  him  in  jail!  "They  can't 
put  you  in  jail  for  that!  "  said  the  lawyer  indig- 
nantly, when  he  heard  the  charge.  And  the  man 
in  the  cell  answered  that  that  might  be  so  —  but 
that  he  most  certainly  was  in  jail! 

From  that  point  to  the  full  realization  of  what 
Morgan's  desertion  meant,  and  the  need  of  in- 
stant action,  didn't  take  a  second. 

"  I  thought  you'd  get  it!  "  said  Martyn  grimly. 
"  Either  we  get  him  back,  or  thirty-five  hundred 
feet  of  film  and  three  weeks  of  solid  plugging 
aren't  worth  a  counterfeit  nickel  I  " 

"There's  no   chance  to   double  him?"     He 
knew  the  suggestion  was  futile,  even  as  he  made 
it.    Martyn  shook  his  head  impatiently. 
[220] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  It  would  be  ten  to  one  against  our  getting  a 
ringer  for  him  that  would  fool  anyone  for  a  hun- 
dred feet,"  he  said.  "  And,  if  we  did,  Morgan 
or  whoever  got  him  to  quit  would  give  it  away. 
You  can  guess  how  quickly  it  would  kill  the  film 
if  people  thought  we  were  working  such  a  game 
as  that!" 

"  No  —  we  can't  do  that,"  admitted  Lansing. 
"  We've  got  to  get  him  back.  He's  one  of  our 
biggest  assets  —  even  if  we  could  retake  all  we've 
done.  Featuring  the  original  star  of  the  original 
production  —  " 

"  They've  got  to  him,  of  course,"  said  Martyn. 
"  He'd  never  have  thought  of  anything  like  this 
by  himself  —  the  shrimp !  They've  made  it  worth 
his  while,  every  way,  to  clear  out  —  promised  him 
as  much  as  he  stood  to  make  with  us,  and  a  good 
bit  more!  " 

"  The  damned  little  fool!  "  said  Lansing  sav- 
agely. "  He  couldn't  see  that  the  biggest  thing 
he  stood  to  win  out  of  this  film  was  another  chance 
to  make  a  great  big  hit.  The  regular  managers 
would  have  been  standing  in  line  to  get  at  him  if 
he'd  made  good  in  this  —  " 

"  We  don't  know  who's  done  it,"  interrupted 
[221] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Martyn.  "  But  you  want  to  remember  that 
Cramer  and  Howell,  just  for  instance,  have  pull 
enough  with  the  theatrical  syndicate  to  get  any- 
thing in  reason.  Couldn't  they  have  promised 
Morgan  a  fat  part  —  as  fat  a  part  as  Crandall 
was  when  the  show  was  turning  them  away?  " 

"  Of  course!  "  said  Lansing  bitterly.  "  Oh  — 
it's  easy  enough  to  see  now  what  a  chance  we  gave 
them  with  Morgan." 

"  Yes  —  and  I  guess  we  know  now  where  they 
found  out  all  you  were  doing,  too!  You  didn't 
keep  very  much  back  from  Morgan,  did  you?  " 

"No!  I  had  to  tell  him  everything  we  were 
planning  to  get  him  to  take  a  chance!  " 

They  stared  at  one  another  for  a  minute.  Each 
of  them  hated  himself,  blamed  himself  for  the 
disaster  that  had  overtaken  the  whole  enterprise. 
For  it  was  a  disaster.  Unless  they  got  Morgan 
back  they  might  as  well  acknowledge  defeat. 
There  wasn't  money  enough  in  reserve  to  finance 
the  retaking  of  half  the  film,  involving  loss  of 
time  and  a  staggering  addition  to  the  pay  roll. 

"  Roughly  —  what's  the  footage  of  the  scenes 
you've  still  got  to  take  that  Morgan  has  to  be 
in?  "  asked  Lansing  finally. 

[222] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  I'll  figure  it  up,"  said  Martyn.  He  got  his 
working  scenario  and  began  to  make  calculations 
on  a  pad.  Martyn  might  be  temperamental,  but 
there  was  never  a  moment  in  the  taking  of  any 
picture  when  he  could  not  calculate  his  footage  to 
a  nicety.  One  of  the  things  that  had  been  a  bone 
of  contention  between  himself  and  former  em- 
ployers was  his  waste  of  film,  but  it  was  a  highly 
methodical  waste,  always. 

"  About  seventeen  hundred  feet,"  he  said,  look- 
ing up,  when  he  had  covered  a  page  with  figures. 
"  He's  off  stage  a  whole  lot  in  parts  three  and 
four,  and  the  first  of  five.  The  last  five  hundred 
feet,  of  course,  all  centers  around  him  and  the 
woman  lead." 

"  Can  you  cut  that  any?  And  could  you  make 
all  the  scenes  he's  in  in  a  bunch  —  shift  the  others 
forward  and  get  along  without  him  till  you  were 
ready  to  go  right  through?  And  how  long  would 
it  take  you  to  do  all  the  scenes  he  was  in  —  work- 
ing as  hard  as  you  could?  " 

"  I  can't  cut  much.  The  order  of  the  scenes 
doesn't  make  any  difference,  if  we  look  out  for 
changes  of  costume  and  keep  a  record  of  all  de- 
tails, to  duplicate  exactly.  And  it  would  take 
[223] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


eight  days  —  maybe  seven  —  to  take  all  his 
scenes."  Martyn  answered  the  questions;  then 
asked  one  of  his  own.  "Why?"  he  said. 
"  What's  in  your  mind?  " 

"  I'm  not  sure  yet,"  said  Lansing.  "  I'm  try- 
ing to  dope  this  thing  out.  All  I  know  is  we've 
got  to  get  him.  I'm  trying  to  have  any  informa- 
tion that  may  be  useful  handy.  And  so  far  I 
don't  even  know  where  he  is!  " 

"  It's  a  lovely  mess,"  said  Martyn.  "  Well  — 
shall  I  go  ahead?  If  we  don't  get  him,  every 
scene  we  take  means  that  your  bank  roll  gets  just 
that  much  slimmer  —  and  you  might  need  it  for  a 
new  start." 

"  No  —  go  ahead  1  "  said  Lansing.  "  I'll  worry 
about  a  new  start  when  I  have  to  make  it.  Well 
—  I'll  be  off.  It's  a  cinch  the  first  thing  to  do  is 
to  find  out  where  that  rat  is  now." 

"Right!"  said  Martyn.  "I'll  go  see  how 
Teddy's  getting  on  with  that  exterior." 

Lansing  started  for  the  trolley.  But  he  hadn't 
gone  far  when  Mary  Brewster's  voice  stopped  him. 

"  Mr.  Lansing!  "  she  cried.  He  stopped  and 
turned,  and  she  came  running  toward  him,  her 
skirts  flying  in  the  wind,  and  here  eyes,  heavily 
[224] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


blackened,  showing  her  anxiety.  Somehow,  even 
in  the  sunlight,  which  is  not  merciful  in  such  mat- 
ters, her  painted  face  didn't  look  ridiculous. 

"  Mr.  Morgan's  gone,  hasn't  he?  "  she  asked, 
when  she  came  to  him. 

"  He's  taking  a  little  vacation  —  that's  all," 
said  Lansing. 

"  Mr.  Lansing!  "  She  stamped  her  foot.  "  I'm 
not  a  fool  —  and  I'm  not  a  child,  either  I  Don't 
you  suppose  I  want  to  see  you  win?  And  per- 
haps I  know  more  than  you  think !  Anyhow  —  I 
saw  Mr.  Martyn's  face,  and  I  saw  the  way  the 
two  of  you  looked  when  you  were  talking!  Isn't 
it  so  ?  Hasn't  Mr.  Morgan  broken  his  contract  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  thinks  he  has,"  admitted  Lansing, 
after  a  moment's  thought.  "  But  I  hope  to  be 
able  to  make  him  change  his  mind." 

"  You  won't,"  she  said.  "  But  —  perhaps  I 
can." 

"  You !  "  he  said  wonderingly.  "  Why,  what 
on  earth  —  " 

"  You  don't  even  know  where  he  is,"  she  said. 
"  I  do.     He's  in  a  little  hotel  near  Fifth  Avenue, 
and  he's  going  to  sneak  on  the  Baltic  tonight  and 
sail  tomorrow  morning  for  England." 
[225  ] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  For  heaven's  sake!  " 
said  Lansing.  There  was 
no  doubting  her.  It  was 
perfectly  obvious  that  she 
told  the  truth,  and  that  she 
knew  what  she  was  talking 
about.  "  How  do  you 
know?" 

"  Because    that 
wasn't  his  original  plan,"  she 
said  defiantly.     "  He  wanted  to  go  the 
other  way  —  and  he  wanted  me  to  go  with 
[226] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


him.  He  said  if  we  went  West  we  could  get  mar- 
ried somewhere  where  they  weren't  particular 
about  a  license,  and  have  a  trip  around  the  world. 
I  turned  him  down  —  pretty  hard.  I  told  him  I 
couldn't  even  think  of  leaving  before  the  picture 
was  finished.  I  thought  that  might  make  him 
stay." 

"Well  —  I'll  be  jiggered!"  said  Lansing. 
Then  he  seized  on  the  salient  point.  "  A  trip 
around  the  world,  eh?  He  must  have  got  hold 
of  some  real  money.  Well,  we  can  guess  where 
it  came  from." 

"  I'm  afraid  so,"  she  said.  "I  —  well,  I  didn't 
think  he'd  really  do  it.  But,  of  course,  I  knew, 
when  he  didn't  turn  up." 

"  What  hotel  is  he  at?  "  asked  Lansing  curtly. 
"  I'll  get  over  there  right  away  —  " 

"  You  will  —  if  you  take  me  with  you,"  she 
said.  "  We've  got  to  get  him  back,  and  I  can  see 
what  you're  planning  in  your  eye.  Wait  a  min- 
ute —  I'll  tell  Mr.  Martyn  I'm  going,  and  wash 
my  face." 

He  had  to  wait,  and  she  was  back  in  five  min- 
utes, as  a  matter  of  fact,  so  that  they  had  plenty 
of  time  to  catch  the  next  car. 
[227] 


CHAPTER  XIX 

ON  the  car,  on  the  ferry,  in  the  subway,  when 
they  had  crossed  the  river,  Lansing  pro- 
tested that  it  was  his  affair;  that  he,  and  he  alone, 
should  have  the  handling  of  Morgan.  But  Mary 
Brewster  was  adamant,  she  was  firm.  And  then, 
within  a  block  of  the  hotel,  she  exercised  her 
feminine  prerogative  and  changed  her  mind. 

"  You  go  first,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  believe 
you'll  be  able  to  do  anything,  because  I  know  they 
must  have  gone  pretty  far  to  get  him  to  quit  like 
this." 

So  it  was  Lansing,  alone,  who  went  in  and  asked 
for  Mr.  Robinson,  that  being  the  undistinguished 
alias  that  Morgan  had  chosen.  It  served  him  ill 
in  this  case,  for  expecting  visits  only  from  those 
who  were  in  his  confidence,  he  had  taken  no  pre- 
cautions. Lansing  was  shown  up  to  his  room  at 
once.  The  actor  was  walking  up  and  down  nerv- 
ously, and  at  the  sight  of  Lansing  his  jaw  dropped. 
But  he  recovered  himself  at  once. 

[228] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  What  ho  1  "  he  said.     "  You'll  have  a  drink 

—  what?" 

"  No,"  said  Lansing.     "  Look  here,  Morgan 

—  what  do  you  mean  by  this?    Don't  you  realize 
that  that  contract  you  signed  with  me  is  binding? 
You've  absolutely  no  excuse  for  breaking  it  that 
a  court  would  consider  for  a  minute  —  " 

Morgan  waved  that  aside. 
"  My  dear  chap  —  what  do  we  know  about  the 
bally  courts?    That's  what  we  have  solicitors  for 

—  eh,  what?     But  you  know,  you  deceived  me. 
False  pretenses,  it'd  be  called,  I  dare  say!     Of 
course,  you  didn't  mean  to  do  it,  my  dear  old 
chap,  but  you  know,  the  silly  ass  of  a  law  doesn't 
care  what  you  mean.    It's  what  you  do  —  what  ?  " 

"  How  did  I  deceive  you?  " 

"  Why,  you  made  all  sorts  of  promises.  I  dare 
say  it  was  all  your  American  swank,  you  know  — 
you  Yankees  are  rippin'  at  that — top  hole,  you 
know.  You  jolly  well  did  have  me  on.  I  fancy 
I'd  have  gone  on  believin'  it  all,  too,  if  those  other 
Johnnies  hadn't  explained  it  all.  I  mean  to  say, 
I'd  have  gone  on  thinkin'  I  was  goin'  to  get  lots 
of  oof,  and  never  dreamin'  your  bally  old  cinema 
show  wouldn't  even  be  shown  once." 
[229] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Whoever  told  you  that  lied,"  said  Lansing 
quietly. 

"  Oh,  no,  my  dear  old  chap  —  you  mustn't  say 
that,  you  mustn't,  indeed.  They're  no-end  friends 
of  yours,  these  other  Johnnies.  They  understand 
it  all,  and  they  want  to  keep  you  from  —  now, 
what  did  they  call  it  ?  Holding  the  valise  ?  Keep- 
ing the  sack?  Holding  the  bag.  That  was  it." 

"  Suppose  you  tell  me  who  told  you  those 
things?" 

"  Oh,  no,  old  chap,  couldn't  think  of  it." 

For  nearly  an  hour,  then,  Lansing  employed 
every  resource  of  the  English  language,  as  he 
spoke  it,  without  making  the  slightest  impression 
on  Morgan.  The  actor  absolutely  refused  to  dis- 
cuss the  legal  consequences  of  his  flight.  That 
sort  of  thing,  he  said,  must  be  left  to  the  lawyer 
chappies.  Lansing  was  baffled.  He  didn't  know 
whether  Morgan,  bought  off,  and  understanding 
precisely  what  he  was  doing,  was  playing  a  deep 
game,  or  whether  the  man  was  really  the  fool  he 
seemed.  But  he  decided  that  the  last  theory 
wouldn't  hold,  because  the  only  absolute  fact  that 
emerged  was  that  he  hadn't  budged  Morgan  an 
inch. 

[230] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


He  had  had  some  idea  of  bluffing  —  of  pre- 
tending that  he  could  have  Morgan  arrested.  But 
he  abandoned  that  even  without  a  trial,  because  it 
was  so  infernally  obvious  that  Morgan  was  not 
to  be  bluffed.  Moreover,  his  reiteration  of  the 
hopelessness  of  going  on  with  the  picture  did  ring 
true.  It  made  Lansing  uneasy,  after  a  time.  Per- 
haps the  opposition  did  have  something  up  its 
sleeve,  and  had  confided  its  plans  to  Morgan.  In 
that  case,  he  might  not  even  have  been  bought  off  ; 
he  might,  instead,  be  playing  the  true  rat's  part  of 
deserting  a  sinking  ship. 

And  there  was  nothing  to  be  done.  He  stood 
by  the  door,  at  last,  looking  at  the  actor,  immacu- 
late, insignificant,  in  this  wholly  undramatic  set- 
ting, wondering  that  he  and  his  whole  enterprise 
should  be  so  absolutely  at  the  mercy  of  this  one 
queer,  illogical  creature.  He  wanted  to  spring  on 
Morgan,  to  take  him  by  the  throat  and  shake  him 
until  he  promised  to  finish  his  work.  He  knew 
that  it  wouldn't  do  any  good,  but  he  was  close  to 
doing  it,  none  the  less,  for  the  sheer  satisfaction 
of  hurting  this  man  who  had  him  so  absolutely  in 
his  power.  Just  then  the  telephone  sounded,  and 
as  Morgan  went  to  answer,  that  mood  passed. 
[231] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"Hello  — are  you  there?  Who  is  that?" 
asked  Morgan.  "  Oh,  I  say  —  is  that  you?  My 
word!  Lansing?  Yes.  Rather  —  I'll  tell  him. 
Half  a  mo' !  " 

He  turned  to  Lansing,  visibly  excited. 

"It's  that  rippin'  Miss  Brewster!  "  he  said. 
"  She  wants  me  to  put  you  through  to  her." 

Lansing  jumped  for  the  telephone  without  cere- 
mony. 

"  You've  had  plenty  of  time,"  said  Mary  Brew- 
ster's  cool  voice,  unmelodious  still,  but  not  un- 
pleasant. "  Bring  him  down  here  to  me,  and  we'll 
see  what  I  can  do.  I  suppose  you've  failed?  " 

"  Absolutely,"  he  answered.  "  I  think  I'd  have 
throttled  him  if  you  hadn't  called  up.  Where  are 
you?" 

"  Downstairs,"  she  said.  "  I'm  glad  I  didn't 
wait  any  longer.  I  was  afraid  you  might  get 
violent." 

She  laughed,  and  broke  the  connection. 

Morgan  made  no  objection  to  going  down.  He 
had  remarkably  few  nerves,  but  the  interview  was 
beginning  to  affect  them. 

"Right-o!"  he  said.  "Come  on,  old  chap. 
Sorry,  you  know,  about  your  bally  old  cinema. 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


You  quite  made  me  believe  it  was  quite  all  right. 
But  now  that  I've  explained  it,  you  quite  under- 
stand, don't  you?  I  mean  to  say,  you  see  there's 
no  bally  use  goin.'  on?  " 

Lansing  sighed  and  followed  him  to  the  eleva- 
tor, without  answering.  And,  in  the  lobby,  they 
met  Mary  Brewster.  She  smiled  at  Lansing  and 
made  a  grimace  that  bade  him  efface  himself.  And 
then  she  slipped  her  arm  through  Morgan's,  while 
a  fatuous  smile  spread  itself  over  the  actor's  face, 
and  led  him  to  a  sofa  near  a  window.  Lansing 
planted  himself  in  a  chair  where  he  commanded  a 
good  view  of  them,  and  surveyed  them  morosely. 

He  couldn't  hear  what  was  being  said,  of 
course.  But  he  could  see.  Mary  did  most  of  the 
talking  at  first.  She  spoke  vigorously,  and,  Lan- 
sing judged,  without  restraint.  Once  or  twice 
Morgan  protested,  in  a  sudden  rush  of  words,  but 
she  silenced  him  quickly  each  time  and  went  on. 
Suddenly  his  face  lighted  up,  and  he  half  caught 
her  hand.  But  she  drew  it  away  and  talked  quickly 
again  for  a  minute.  Then  she  let  Morgan  assume 
the  burden  of  the  conversation.  He  seemed  to  be 
pleading;  she  shook  her  head  repeatedly,  in  nega- 
tion of  something  he  was  pressing  her  to  do.  But 
[233] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


at  last  she  nodded  — 
and  blushed.  Lansing  admired 
that  blush  with  every  fiber  in 
him  that  had  to  do  with  the 
theater,  for  he  was  sure  that  it  rep- 
resented an  act  of  will,  pure  and 
simple.  And  then  Mary  jumped  up  and  came 
toward  him,  beckoning,  and  Morgan  followed 
her. 

"  I  say,  old  chap  —  I  may  be  a  silly  ass,  you 
know,"  he  said.  "  But  I'm  going  to  see  you 
through,  since  you  make  a  point  of  it.  It  won't 
be  a  bally  bit  of  good,  you  know,  but  —  well  —  " 
"  Mr.  Morgan  and  I  are  engaged  —  sort  of," 
said  Mary,  blushing  again,  as  she  met  Lansing's 
amazed  and  horrified  eyes.  "  It's  a  provisional 
engagement,  and  it  may  be  ratified  the  day  '  Cran- 
dall's  Revenge  '  is  finished." 

[234] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Morgan  beamed.  He  expected  congratula- 
tions obviously,  and  Lansing,  feeling  very  sick, 
shook  his  hand  with  an  affection  of  heartiness. 

"  Owe  it  all  to  you,  you  know,  old  chap,"  said 
Morgan.  "  Never  have  met  the  dear  girl,  except 
for  you.  Tell  that  Martyn  chappie  I'll  be  over  at 
the  studio  in  the  mornin'." 

Lansing  was  angry  and  bewildered  and  filled 
with  a  profound  admiration  for  Mary.  But  he 
wanted  to  shake  her,  too,  and  he  felt  no  exulta- 
tion at  all  at  the  thought  that  Morgan  would 
finish  the  picture,  after  all.  For  the  first  time, 
perhaps,  he  was  considering  Mary  Brewster  as  a 
woman,  a  girl  —  a  thing  of  flesh  and  blood  and 
the  other  human  attributes,  anyhow.  Hitherto 
she  had  just  been  an  actress  whose  unique  talent 
he  himself  had  discovered.  He  had  to  readjust 
his  whole  conception  of  her,  and  he  didn't  have 
much  time  for  the  task. 

"  We've  got  to  run  along  now  —  Ralph,"  said 
Mary.  "  You'll  be  over  tomorrow?  You  won't 
let  them  make  you  change  your  mind  again?  " 

"  Word  of  honor  I  "  he  promised.  "  But  —  I 
say  —  aren't  we  even  going  to  have  dinner  to- 
gether? " 

[235] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  I  never  dissipate  while  I'm  working,"  she 
laughed.  "  And  we're  only  provisionally  engaged, 
you  know !  I've  got  to  make  over  a  dress  tonight 
that  I'm  going  to  wear  tomorrow.  So  I'm  going 
to  let  Mr.  Lansing  take  me  home." 

Morgan  thought  it  wasn't  quite  right,  but  while 
he  was  making  up  his  mind  what  to  do  about  it, 
Mary  and  Lansing  got  away.  And,  in  the  street, 
he  turned  on  her  furiously. 

"  I  won't  have  it!  "  he  stormed.  "  If  that's  the 
only  way  to  keep  him  here  let  him  go  back  to 
England  or  to  Timbuktu  if  he  likes !  I  won't  let 
you  sacrifice  yourself  that  way  to  save  the  pic- 
ture —  " 

"  You've  got  nothing  to  say  about  it  I  "  she  told 
him,  with  spirit.  "  Haven't  I  got  something  at 
stake  in  that  picture,  too?  Don't  you  realize  what 
it  means  to  me  to  have  it  a  success?  I've  never  had 
a  real  chance  before.  Every  time  I've  had  a  part 
I've  lost  my  job  because  I  couldn't  —  I  simply 
couldn't  —  do  what  I  was  told  by  some  stupid 
director  when  I  knew  a  way  that  was  a  thousand 
times  better.  I'd  do  anything  to  have  this  turn 
out  a  success  —  " 

"  Well  —  you've  done  it  1  "  he  said  grimly. 
[236] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Even  to  pretend  to  be  engaged  to  that  miserable 
rat  —  " 

"  He's  nothing  of  the  sort!  "  she  said  furiously. 
"  It  isn't  his  fault  if  those  people  have  lied  to  him 
and  he's  believed  them.  Even  now  he  thinks  go- 
ing on  is  a  waste  of  time.  They've  told  him  some- 
thing that's  made  him  believe  '  Crandall's  Re- 
venge '  will  never  be  produced." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Lansing  stiffly.  "  I 
didn't  understand  that  you  might  have  had  some 
other  motive  than  the  success  of  the  picture  —  " 

"Oh!"  she  said,  and  was  speechless  for  a 
moment.  "You  —  you're  just  a  man!  But  I 
don't  think  I  ever  did  know  one  before  who  didn't 
understand  quite  so  many  things!  Good  night, 
I'm  going  to  take  this  bus !  " 

They  were  at  Fifth  Avenue,  and  she  sprang  on 
the  low  step  of  a  bus  just  as  it  began  to  move, 
leaving  him  staring  after  her.  He  was  full  of 
anger  and  of  admiration  at  once.  And  suddenly 
a  curious,  amazing  thought  came  to  him.  Was  it 
possible  that  he  was  jealous  ?  When  he  had  never, 
until  that  afternoon,  thought  of  her  except  in  the 
most  impersonal  way? 

[237] 


CHAPTER  XX 

BUT,  though  it  was  true  enough  that  hitherto 
his  thoughts  of  the  girl  had  been  impersonal, 
Lansing  understood  perfectly  that  it  could  never 
be  true  again.  He  realized,  with  a  sort  of  keen, 
stabbing  pain,  that  she  had  come  to  fill  a  very 
great  space  in  his  life,  a  space  that  had  always 
before  been  empty.  He  recalled,  now,  the  day 
when  he  had  found  her,  after  his  search  for  her. 
She  had  been  hungry,  then,  and  shabby.  It  was 
with  a  very  real  shame  that  he  remembered  his 
momentary  relief  at  finding  that  she  had  not 
advanced  in  her  work;  that  she  had,  indeed,  failed 
utterly,  so  that  she  was  available  for  his  own 
purpose. 

He  had  enjoyed,  of  course,  the  opportunity  that 
circumstances  had  given  him  to  make  her  accept 
the  help  that  he  had  offered,  for  there  had  never 
been  any  sort  of  question  in  his  mind  as  to  the 
absolute  refusal  with  which  she  would  have  met 
any  offer  of  help  from  him  or  any  other  man  had 
such  circumstances  not  existed.  And  he  could 
t  *38  ] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


trace  now,  as  he  looked  back  over  the  strenuous 
time  that  had  elapsed  since  then,  the  change  in  his 
feeling  toward  her. 

In  the  beginning  he  had  been  interested  in  her 
simply  because  of  the  possibilities  he  saw  in  her. 
It  had  not  been  until  he  saw  her  daily  that  he  had 
begun  to  appreciate  those  inherent  qualities  that 
lay  under  her  ability.  But  he  could  see  now,  of 
course,  that  the  enthusiasm  for  the  picture  that 
she  had  shown  was  all  of  a  piece  with  the  way  in 
which  she  threw  herself  into  the  part  she  was 
playing. 

And  he  could  see  something  else;  something 
that  had  to  do  with  his  own  recognition  of  her 
ability,  and  that  might,  in  some  measure,  explain 
the  blindness  of  Haines  and  the  other  men  who 
had  overlooked  it.  Essentially,  down  at  bottom, 
she  was  the  sort  of  woman  he  had  always  hoped 
to  find.  She  could  feel  things  as  wall  as  under- 
stand them.  And  she  had  a  high  courage  that 
had  held  her  up  in  spite  of  failure  and  discourage- 
ment, that  had  led  her  to  ignore  the  opportunities 
that,  he  knew,  must  have  come  to  her ;  opportuni- 
ties the  very  thought  of  which,  in  the  light  of  what 
he  knew  of  the  moving-picture  business,  and  of 

[239] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


men  like  Ed  Rackett,  made  him  flush  with  a  hot 
anger. 

There  was,  he  saw,  a  spiritual  kinship  between 
them.  Why,  she  looked  at  this  enterprise  as  he 
did !  A  thousand  things  that  she  had  said,  during 
the  long  talks  they  had  all  had,  came  back  to  him. 
Even  more  than  Cliff  Martyn  she  shared  his  own 
enthusiasm.  She  hated  and  resented,  just  as  did 
himself,  the  thing  that  had  threatened  to  cheapen 
the  newborn  industry  and  strangle  it  before  it 
reached  its  growth ;  the  thing  that  she  herself  had 
put  into  words  for  him  one  day. 

"  It's  the  same  everywhere,"  she  had  said. 
"  These  movie  people  don't  say:  '  What  can  we 
do?  What  can  we  produce  that  people  will  want  ?  ' 
but:  'What  can  we  put  over?  What  can  we 
make  them  stand  for  next?  '  ' 

And  now  she  had  saved  the  day  for  him.  After 
all,  his  feeling  when  he  understood  what  she  had 
done  was  the  real  touchstone.  He  was  jealous. 
And  he  was  baffled,  too,  and  mystified  by  her 
anger.  Had  she  really  meant  to  defend  Morgan? 
Was  it  possible  that  she  cared  for  him?  Lansing 
gave  up  the  riddle  in  despair!  He  had  little 
choice,  indeed.  There  was  so  much  for  him  to 
[240] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


do  in  the  next  few  days  that  he  had  to  try  to  put 
the  girl  from  his  mind.  But  he  couldn't  do  it. 
She  was  in  his  thoughts  permanently,  and  he 
stopped,  after  a  time,  his  perfectly  futile  effort  to 
banish  her.  He  wanted  her,  and  it  took  all  his 
strength  to  concentrate  his  mind  on  the  work  he 
had  to  do. 

In  the  task,  however,  he  had  the  whole-souled 
and  enthusiastic  aid  of  those  who  were  on  the 
other  side.  For  the  enemy  began  to  show  his 
hand  openly  now,  or,  at  least,  as  openly  as  a  due 
regard  for  the  laws  against  conspiracy  allowed. 
And,  as  the  taking  of  the  picture  progressed  to- 
ward the  end,  Martyn  and  the  rest  were  compelled 
to  let  Lansing  himself  do  all  the  other  things  that 
had  to  be  done. 

Martyn,  delighted  by  Morgan's  return,  and  car- 
ing so  little  about  how  it  had  been  brought  about 
that  he  was  not  curious  enough  even  to  ask  a  sin- 
gle question,  switched  his  plans.  He  rushed  the 
making  of  the  scenes  in  which  Morgan  figured,  as 
a  precaution  against  another  desertion. 

"  We'll  use  him  while  we've  got  him !  "  he  said. 

He  adopted  heroic  measures,  too,  and  a  sort  of 
camp  was  established  at  the  studio.  There  Mor- 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


gan,  protesting  bitterly,  had  to  spend  his  nights 
as  well  as  his  days.  Martyn  managed  that,  with 
a  little  help  from  Mary  Brewster.  And  the  studio 
was  practically  under  martial  law.  Martyn  aver- 
aged about  four  hours  of  sleep  a  night  now,  and 
Teddy  Lathrop,  who  worshiped  him,  got  little 
more.  Suspicious  characters,  and  in  the  eyes  of 
Martyn  and  Lathrop  everyone  who  wasn't  work- 
ing in  or  about  "  Crandall's  Revenge  "  was  sus- 
picious, couldn't  get  past  the  wire  fence  Martyn 
had  built. 

Martyn  and  Lathrop  practically  stood  guard 
all  night,  and  they  had  the  able  assistance  of  a 
pair  of  dogs  of  uncertain  lineage,  afflicted  with 
insomnia,  and  utterly  without  faith  in  human 
nature. 

"  Not  that  I  think  they've  got  the  nerve  to  do 
it,"  said  Martyn.  "  But  I  don't  know  anything 
that  burns  any  quicker  than  film,  and  someone 
might  just  happen  to  drop  a  match.  We'll  take 
no  chances,  anyhow.  I  read  a  stdry  about  some 
guy  that  retook  about  three  reels  of  film  in  a 
week,  and  maybe  it  can  be  done  —  in  a  story.  I'm 
not  hankering  to  set  any  record  like  that,  though." 

Three  minor  characters  folded  their  tents  and 
[242] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


silently  stole  away  in  the  week  that  followed  Mor- 
gan's return.  But  they  could  be  doubled  —  that 
is,  other  actors  were  brought  in,  made  up  to  re- 
semble the  deserters.  More  serious  was  the  sud- 
den disappearance  of  a  property  automobile  —  a 
plain  case  of  theft,  perpetrated,  probably,  before 
the  increased  vigilance  of  the  guards.  The  car 
had  been  a  find,  in  the  first  place  —  it  went  back 
to  the  early  days  of  the  automobile  industry. 
Martyn,  on  seeing  it,  had  instantly  visualized  the 
laugh  it  would  get,  and  had  assigned  to  it  an  im- 
portant part.  Now,  when  it  was  needed  for  later 
scenes,  it  wasn't  to  be  found. 

"  That's  the  trouble  with  a  thing  like  that !  "  he 
raged.  "  People  see  it,  and  it's  a  good  thing  —  it 
impresses  them.  And  they  remember  it.  You 
know  how  important  that  car  is  in  the  action. 
We've  got  to  get  one  like  it  —  that's  all!  " 

But  this  was  easier  said  than  done.  Martyn 
did  the  talking,  and  turned  to  some  other  task, 
leaving  Lansing  to  do  the  work.  An  inspiration 
saved  him.  A  classmate  in  college  had  been  the 
son  of  a  famous  automobile  manufacturer.  Lan- 
sing fled  to  Detroit  overnight,  amused  his  friend 
with  the  tale  of  his  difficulty,  and  found  the  mate 
[243] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


of  the  lost  car,  carefully  guarded  in  the  museum 
of  a  great  factory.  At  that,  he  nearly  had  to  steal 
it,  but  he  prevailed  upon  the  company  to  lend  it  to 
him  at  last. 

"  Think  of  the  publicity!  "  he  said.  "  You  see 
—  the  idea  is  that  Crandall  gets  the  old  car  out 
when  it  hasn't  been  used  for  fifteen  years.  It  runs 
as  well  as  ever  —  and  we'll  give  you  an  insert, 
with  the  name  of  the  car.  It'll  be  worth  thousands 
to  you!  " 

He  got  the  car  —  and  didn't  realize,  until  later, 
that  the  publicity  would  be  double-edged  —  that 
"  Crandall's  Revenge  "  would  cut  a  considerable 
figure  in  the  advertising  of  that  particular  car 
during  the  life  of  the  film. 

Lansing  was  too  busy  to  visit  the  Screen  Club 
or  the  eating  places  that  were  the  haunts  of  the 
moving-picture  men  very  often.  He  saw  Hazzard 
once  or  twice,  and  Hazzard  regarded  him  always 
with  a  good-natured,  tolerant,  pitying  wonder. 
Debrett  was  gloomy;  he  didn't  speak  out,  but  did 
suggest  that  what  had  happened  was  only  a  be- 
ginning. And  one  night,  Brewer,  with  whom  he 
had  worked  for  Hazzard,  and  who  was  still  Haz- 
zard's  right-hand  man,  found  him. 
[244] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  You're  playing  the  fool,  Lansing,"  he  said. 
"  You  haven't  got  a  chance." 

"  Oh,  tell  Hazzard  I'm  not  the  scaring  sort," 
said  Lansing  wearily.  "  You  people  make  me 
rather  tired." 

"  Hazzard's  got  nothing  personal  against  you," 
said  Brewer.  "  And,  say  —  you  want  to  under- 
stand that  you're  up  against  a  whole  lot  more  than 
Hazzard.  You've  got  the  whole  industry  lined 
up  against  you.  Men  you  don't  even  know  by 
sight  are  working  to  queer  your  game.  And 
they're  going  to  get  you.  Hazzard  hasn't  got  any 
choice.  He's  working  to  protect  himself,  rather 
than  to  smash  you.  He  knows  you  can't  win  out. 
And  that's  why  he's  offered  to  save  your  hide  by 
taking  you  back  with  us." 

"  Nothing  doing !  "  said  Lansing.  "  I'll  believe 
that  there  are  others  in  this  game,  but  it  isn't  going 
to  make  any  difference.  If  Hazzard  wants  to  line 
up  with  the  crowd  that  has  been  looking  for  his 
scalp  just  to  get  me,  why,  I  think  I  ought  to  be 
flattered." 

"  I  didn't  say  he  was  with  them,"  protested 
Brewer.  "  But  he  may  feel  he's  got  to  go  in  with 
them,  before  he's  through.  You're  marked  for 

[245] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


slaughter,  that's  all.  It  won't  make  much  differ- 
ence to  you  who  uses  the  ax,  you  know." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Lansing.  "  Good  night, 
Brewer!" 

Luck  and  good  management  combined  to  avert 
most  of  the  threatened  dangers.  Most  of  them 
were  petty  enough.  After  the  automobile  inci- 


Jim  tested  his 
developer  every 
time  he  used  it. 


dent,  Lathrop  checked  off  his  properties  every 
night,  but  small  things  turned  up  missing  at  almost 
every  roll  call.  Some  of  the  people  of  the  cast, 
some  of  the  extras,  two  or  three  of  the  carpenters 
and  sceneshifters,  quite  obviously,  had  listened  to 
the  siren  song  of  the  enemy's  campaign  fund.  The 
trouble  was  to  determine  who  was  guilty.  Two 
hundred  feet  of  perfectly  good  film  were  ruined 
[246] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


in  developing  —  and  after  that  Jim  Blunt  tested 
his  developer  every  time  he  used  it. 

Blunt,  incidentally,  though  he  got  less  glory, 
worked  as  hard  as  anyone.  He  was  at  his  camera 
all  day  long,  and  half  tke  night  he  spent  in.  de- 
veloping film,  in  the  small  but  perfectly  equipped 
dark  room.  He,  too,  slept  at  the  studio.  And 
one  morning,  after  a  hasty  trip  down  to  the  river 
for  a  swim,  he  appeared,  with  a  satisfied  smile  and 
skinned  knuckles. 

"  Big  Jim  Hazzard's  man,  Brewer,"  he  said, 
"  offered  me  a  job  out  on  the  coast.  Offered  me 
a  bonus  to  start  West  tonight.  I  pasted  him  one. 
He  pasted  me  back,  and  then  we  had  breakfast 
together,  and  he  sent  his  regards  to  the  boss." 

These  were  pin  pricks.  Gradually  the  disloyal 
ones  were  weeded  out.  Martyn  and  Lansing,  af- 
ter consultation,  took  the  rest  of  the  force  into 
their  confidence,  and  after  that  volunteer  watchers 
took  a  lot  of  the  burden  of  protecting  the  plant 
from  assault. 

"  They'd  finish  this  film  without  another  pay 
day,  now!  "  said  Martyn.  "  Of  course,  I  picked 
some  lame  ducks  —  but  most  of  this  crowd  I 
chose,  knowing  we  were  liable  to  run  into  trouble." 

[247] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  They've  got  life  jobs,  the  whole  lot  of  them, 
if  we  pull  through,"  said  Lansing,  with  en- 
thusiasm. "  And  I  believe  we  are  going  to.  The 
opposition  must  be  beginning  to  see  that  they're 
wasting  their  time." 

But  not  five  minutes  later,  as  he  left  the  studio, 
a  slinking  creature,  with  furtive  eyes  and  visible 
breath,  accosted  him,  and  slipped  a  paper  into  his 
hands.  It  was  the  summons  and  complaint  in  an 
action  for  breach  of  copyright  —  and  gave  notice 
of  an  attempt  to  secure  an  injunction  against  any 
public  performance  of  "  Crandall's  Revenge." 

The  papers  had  been  drawn,  it  appeared,  at  the 
instance  of  one  Charles  Hoover.  Lansing  had  to 
search  his  mind  for  a  moment  before  that  name 
began  to  mean  anything  to  him.  But  then  he 
remembered  that  he  had,  soon  after  the  fact  that 
he  intended  to  produce  "  Crandall's  Revenge  " 
became  known,  received  two  or  three  letters  from 
Hoover,  demanding  recognition  as  one  of  the 
authors  of  the  original  play.  The  man  had  no 
standing;  Lansing  had  satisfied  himself  abundantly 
as  to  that,  having  had  Martyn's  warning  in  mind. 

His  first  instinct  was  to  laugh  at  the  summons. 
But  the  papers,  so  far  as  he  could  judge,  were 
[248] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


properly  drawn,  and  they  bore  the  name  of  a 
famous  legal  firm ;  a  firm  that  had  been  involved  in 
many  great  cases.  And  Hazen's  manner,  when  the 
lawyer  saw  the  papers,  dispelled  any  tendency  on 
Lansing's  part  to  give  way  to  mirth. 

"  Bad  business!  "  said  Hazen,  frowning,  as  he 
went  over  the  complaint.  "  I  don't  like  this;  and 
I've  been  a  little  afraid  that  something  of  the  sort 
might  come  up." 

"  But  the  fellow's  got  no  rights,"  protested 
Lansing.  "  You'll  find  no  trouble  in  beating  him, 
will  you?" 

"  That's  not  what's  worrying  me,"  said  Hazen. 
"  There's  no  sort  of  question  as  to  the  soundness 
of  our  case.  But  suppose  this  ties  up  your  produc- 
tion?" 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  they  can  get  an  in- 
junction?" said  Lansing  incredulously.  "The 
play's  been  in  stock  ever  since  Morgan  dropped 
it,  and  this  fellow's  never  done  anything  about  it 
—  and  he's  never  collected  any  of  the  royalties, 
either.  It's  a  strike  suit." 

"  You  needn't  tell  me  that,"  said  Hazen.  "  But 
it's  not  so  very  long  since  a  man  who  held  about 
one  share  of  stock  tied  up  a  hundred-million-dollar 
[249] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


bond  issue  by  United  States  Steel.  He  didn't  have 
any  better  case  than  this  chap,  but  he  was  able  to 
hold  them  up.  Figured  he'd  be  bought  off,  prob- 
ably, but  he  wasn't.  They  could  afford  to  fight, 
and  spent  a  year  or  two  at  it.  Probably  you  can 
beat  this,  too,  if  you  take  the  time  —  but  they'll 
get  their  temporary  injunction." 

"  It's  an  outrage!  "  exploded  Lansing. 

"  In  this  case  —  yes.  But  it  doesn't  always 
work  that  way.  The  courts  are  pretty  free  with 
temporary  injunctions  on  the  theory  that  it's  better 
to  prevent  any  possible  injustice.  Probably  they'd 
make  this  fellow  Hoover  give  a  bond.  You  can 
guess  how  much  trouble  he'll  have  getting  it." 

"Well,  what  am  I  to  do?" 

"  I  don't  know  yet.  There  ought  to  be  some 
way  to  beat  it,  but  I  don't  want  you  to  think  it's 
going  to  be  easy.  When  a  man  can  get  a  firm 
that  includes  an  ex-secretary  of  state,  a  United 
States  senator,  and  a  former  judge  of  the  court 
of  appeals  of  the  State  of  New  York  to  handle  a 
case  like  this  he's  probably  covered  most  of  the 
loopholes." 

"  Hazzard's  firm?  "  said  Lansing. 

"  Exactly."  But  the  lawyer's  eyes  lighted  up. 
[250] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Still,  I've  crossed  swords  with  them  once  or 
twice  before,  and  I  haven't  always  lost,  by  any 
means.  Give  me  a  night  to  think  about  it." 

Having  no  choice,  Lansing  gave  him  the  night. 
Martyn  wasn't  surprised. 

"  I  was  afraid  of  it,"  he  said.  "  I  remember 
this  chap  Hoover.  He  collaborated  with  Redfield 
on  '  Crandall's  Revenge  '  —  the  play,  you  know. 
It  was  Redfield's  novel,  and  Hoover  was  a  good 
hack  playwright,  the  sort  who'd  take  a  scenario 
and  hand  over  the  first  act  next  day." 

"  That's  what  Redfield  told  me  when  I  closed 
the  deal  with  him,"  said  Lansing.  "  He  paid  him 
outright  —  Hoover  never  was  supposed  to  get 
any  royalty.  Never  claimed  any,  either,  while  the 
play  was  running.  Redfield  told  me  that  when  the 
play  was  making  such  a  mint  of  money  for  him  he 
handed  Hoover  a  hundred-dollar  bill  once  in  a 
while,  out  of  charity." 

"  He's  been  down  and  out  for  two  years  — 
touched  me  for  a  half  dollar  even  after  we  started 
this  picture,"  said  Martyn  thoughtfully.  "  Won- 
der how  he's  living  now?  " 

"  You  might  ask  Hazzard.     He  could  tell  you 
—  if  he  would  —  I  guess." 
[251] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  I  suppose  so,"  mused  Martyn.  "  Say,  Haz- 
zard  sent  for  me  today.  I  wasn't  going  to  pay 
any  attention,  but  now  I  think  I'll  go  see  him.  If 
your  ears  start  tingling  you'll  know  I'm  telling  him 
a  few  choice  things  about  you." 

"  Better  look  out!  "  advised  Lansing  wearily. 
"  He's  a  tough  bird,  Cliff." 

"  So'm  I,"  said  Martyn  briefly.  "  You  go  and 
hold  Hazen's  hand.  But  take  it  from  me,  all  the 
lawyers  in  the  world  aren't  going  to  call  Hoover 
off  in  time  to  do  us  any  good.  You'd  better  tell 
Hazen  to  figure  out  some  way  to  beating  that  in- 
junction after  its  been  granted.  Something  like 
the  time  when  old  Larry  Lajoie  jumped  the  Phil- 
lies and  landed  in  Cleveland  with  the  American 
League.  They  respected  the  injunction  —  sure  ! 
He  got  some  days  off  every  time  the  schedule  took 
Cleveland  into  Philly  for  a  series  with  the 
Athletics." 

"  Copyright's  in  the  Federal  courts  —  and  their 
writs  cross  State  lines,"  said  Lansing.  "  Still, 
Hazen's  pretty  good.  If  there's  any  way  of  beat- 
ing this  game  he'll  find  it." 

"  Maybe  so,"  said  Martyn.  "  But  what  we 
need  just  now  is  a  lawyer  or  a  conjuror  or  some- 
[252] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


one  that  can  find  a  way  when  there  isn't  one.  Shall 
I  give  your  love  to  Hazzard?  " 

Lansing  grinned,  and  let  him  go.  He  was  de- 
termined to  be  very  cheerful,  very  optimistic.  He 
refused  to  worry  about  this  latest  attack  until  he 
had  to.  And  he  went  home  trying  to  hypnotize 
himself  into  believing  that  Hazen  would  find  a 
way. 

It  was  about  midnight  when  the  insistent  ring- 
ing of  his  telephone  roused  him.  He  answered  it 
sleepily,  resentfully.  And  his  resentment  wasn't 
lessened  by  the  discovery  that  it  was  Sandy 
Brangwyn  who  was  at  the  end  of  the  wire. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  don't  you  know  I'm  work- 
ing these  days,  Sandy?  "  he  said  irritably.  "  I've 
resigned  from  the  all-night  society!  " 

"  You'd  better  reconsider,"  said  Sandy,  with 
undiminished  good  nature.  "  Your  little  friend 
Martyn's  trying  to  corner  the  available  supply  of 
the  demon  rum.  I've  been  hearing  about  him 
since  ten  o'clock  —  he's  making  quite  a  dent,  even 
for  Broadway.  I've  just  caught  up  with  him,  here 
in  Priest's.  Come  on  down,  and  I'll  leave  word 
for  you,  if  I  can.  Anyhow,  I'll  stick  right  to  him, 
and  telephone  for  you  back  here,  if  he  moves  on." 
[253] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Lansing  was  wide  awake  now. 

"  Thanks,  Sandy,"  he  said.  "  I  apologize. 
You're  all  to  the  good.  I'll  be  down  as  soon  as  I 
can  get  dressed." 

His  thoughts  were  lurid,  as  he  flung  himself 
into  his  clothes.  He  might  have  known  that  Haz- 
zard  would  overcome  Martyn  1  But  surely  Martyn 
had  behaved,  since  his  trip  to  Atlantic  City,  like  a 
man  who  could  be  trusted.  He  hesitated  for  a 
minute.  After  all,  was  it  worth  while  to  go  down  ? 
Was  there  any  hope  that  he  could  influence  Martyn 
again?  But  he  went. 

In  his  play  time,  in  the  days  before  the  failure 
of  Lansing's  he  had  been  able  to  find  his  way 
about  among  the  white  lights,  though  he  had  never 
made  a  cult  of  the  pursuit  of  pleasure  that  goes 
on  under  their  glare.  But  even  in  the  compara- 
tively short  time  that  had  passed,  things  had 
changed.  He  saw  few  familiar  faces  as  he  en- 
tered Priest's.  A  new  generation  of  pleasure 
seekers  seemed  to  have  sprung  up.  There  was  a 
message  for  him;  his  "  party,"  the  boy  at  the  tele- 
phone told  him,  had  gone  on  to  a  noisier  place. 
For  nearly  an  hour,  while  the  crowds  everywhere 
thinned  out,  Lansing  wandered  about,  always  find- 
[254] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


ing  messages  from  the  faithful  Sandy,  but  never 
quite  catching  up. 

At  last,  however,  Sandy  met  him  at  the  door  of 
a  place  west  of  Seventh  Avenue  —  a  place  he 
could  not  have  entered  alone,  since  the  legal  clos- 
ing hour  had  passed.  Sandy's  easy  "  Friend  of 
mine,  Bill,"  proved  sufficient,  however,  and  they 
passed  into  a  dark,  narrow  passage. 

"  Easy,  Bob!  "  said  Sandy.  "  You  want  to  go 
slow  here.  Hazzard's  just  come  in.  He's  pretty 
happy  himself,  and  he's  opening  wine  as  fast  as 
they  can  bring  it.  Tried  to  ring  me  in  on  the  party 
—  said  he  remembered  my  face,  though  he  didn't 
know  why.  I  slipped  out.  I  think  he's  trying  to 
get  a  little  souse  away  from  Martyn.  Martyn's 
ugly.  He's  come  up  to  me  about  six  times  and 
threatened  to  punch  my  head  —  said  he  knew 
what  I  was  doing,  all  right  —  that  I  was  watching 
him,  so  as  to  tip  you  off.  Then  he  said  he  hoped 
I'd  do  it  —  that  he'd  like  a  chance  to  tell  you  what 
he  thinks  of  you." 

"  Wonder  if  I  couldn't  look  on  a  bit  without 
being  seen,"  suggested  Lansing. 

"  I've  spent  money  enough  here  to  have  a  pull," 
said  Sandy.  "  I'll  see." 

[255] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


This  was  a  place  where  such  a  request  did  not 
seem  strange.  It  was  easily  arranged,  and  Lan- 
sing smiled  sourly  when  he  saw  his  quarry.  Mar- 
tyn  sat  with  his  arm  about  a  fat,  bloated  little  man 
—  Hoover.  And  he  was  defying  Hazzard. 

"  All  HT  palsh  togesher !  "  he  said.  "  Go  'way, 
Hazzard!  Tryin'  shpoil  party!  " 

He  seemed  to  be  overcome  suddenly  by  a  sort 
of  futile  rage.  Also,  he  was  quite  sure  that  it  was 
his  mission  in  life  to  care  for  Hoover.  First  he 
denounced  Hazzard.  Then,  with  an  abrupt  tran- 
sition of  his  mood,  he  grew  tearful,  and  promised 
to  see  that  Hoover  was  at  Hazzard's  office  next 
morning.  He  would  send  him  by  parcel  post,  if 
necessary,  he  promised.  Hazzard  considered  the 
matter,  gave  up  reluctantly,  and  moved  ponder- 
ously to  the  door.  Brangwyn,  scouting,  watched 
him  into  a  taxicab.  And  then  Lansing  advanced 
openly  upon  Martyn.  Not  more  than  a  dozen 
people  were  left  in  the  place  now,  and  these  were 
concerned  with  their  own  affairs. 

Martyn  was  not  too  far  gone  to  recognize  Lan- 
sing. Nor  was  he  abashed.  On  the  contrary. 
He  began  at  once  a  tirade  of  abuse.  Lansing,  he 
complained,  was  a  slave  driver.  He  wanted  to 

[256] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


deny  to  those  who  worked  for  him  those  common 
rights  —  life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happi- 
ness —  guaranteed  to  all  free-born  Americans  by 
the  Constitution.  Lansing  didn't  have  a  chance  to 
get  a  word  in  edgewise. 

"  That's  the  stuff,  ol'  boy!  "  said  the  admiring 
Hoover.  It  was  a  long  time  since  anyone  had 
made  much  of  Hoover;  Martyn's  friendship  had 
gone  to  his  head  quite  as  much  as  had  his  pota- 
tions. But  these  had  been  busy,  also. 

"  Suppose  you  cut  out  this  foolishness,  and 
come  home,"  said  Lansing  savagely. 

"Home!"  said  Martyn  suddenly  stricken. 
The  word  struck  some  responsive  hidden  chord. 
His  shoulders  shook,  and  he  covered  his  head  with 
his  hands.  "  Home!  "  he  said  tearfully.  "  Hoo- 
ver, look  at  tha'  man,  there  —  Lanshing!  " 

"  I'm  looking,"  said  Hoover,  striving  for  dig- 
nified utterance.  "  Shall  I  soak  him  one,  pal?  " 

"  Look  at  him  again!  "  said  Martyn.  "  Hoo- 
ver, ol'  frien',  he'sh  been  father,  mother,  sishters, 
aunths,  whole  family  t'  me !  An,  thish  ish  how 
we  treat  him!  Hoover,  you  pal  o'  mine?  " 

Hoover  had  no  words  to  express  the  degree 
of  his  affection  for  Martyn. 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Hoover,"  said  Martyn.  "  If  I  had  million 
dollarsh,  I'd  give  it  all  t'  him.  Any  man'sh  pal  o' 
mine  got  to  prove  it.  What  would  you  give  tha' 
man  Lanshing?  " 

"  Anything  at  all !  "  said  Hoover  passionately. 
And  broke  down.  He  was  destitute  —  no  better 
than  a  beggar,  he  explained.  He  forgot,  of 
course,  that  for  two  years  this  had  been  literally 
true.  There  was  a  conspiracy  against  him.  Some- 
one —  he  couldn't  remember  who  it  was  —  had 
lately  tried  to  rob  him  even  of  his  share  of  "  Cran- 
dall's  Revenge  "  —  the  noblest  child  of  his  brain. 

"  Th'sh  it  —  you  give  him  that !  "  said  Martyn, 
as  one  suddenly  inspired.  "  You're  no  cheap 
shport  —  you're  my  pal !  You'd  never  let  me  give 
him  million  dollarsh  an'  not  give  him  anythin'  at 
all!" 

"  Never!  "  agreed  Hoover.  He  made  a  mag- 
nificent gesture,  directed  at  Lansing,  upon  whom 
a  great  white  light  was  slowly  breaking.  "  It'sh 
yoursh  —  all  yoursh!  "  he  said. 

"  Got  t'  be  in  writin' !  "  said  Martyn  solemnly. 
"  Waiter,  bring  me  paper  'n'  pen  'n'  ink." 

Only  Sandy  Brangwyn  and  Lansing,  exchang- 
ing quick  looks,  saw  that  the  paper  that  Hoover 
[258] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


signed  with  trembling  hand  was  not  the  one  that 
Martyn  had  scribbled  upon,  but  another  sheet  that 
Martyn  had  taken  from  his  pocket.  Brangwyn 
was  one  witness,  the  manager  was  another. 
Hoover  signed,  and  promptly  went  to  sleep.  And 
Martyn  stood  up,  a  little  unsteady,  but  in  remark- 
ably good  condition. 

"  I'm  not  saying  I  feel  fresh,"  he  said.  "  There 
were  times  when  I  couldn't  spill  it  on  the  floor  — 
especially  when  Hazzard  was  around,  and  early 
in  the  evening.  But  I  guess  you  won't  stick  to 
your  treatment  this  time,  Bob !  " 

"You  were  planning  this  all  the  time?"  said 
Lansing.  "  Why  didn't  you  let  me  know?  " 

"  No  use,  till  I  knew  I  had  a  chance  to  put  it 
over,"  said  Martyn.  "  And  I  knew  old  Brangwyn, 
here,  would  tip  you  off."  He  looked  at  Hoover. 
"  Seems  pretty  low  down,"  he  said  regretfully. 
"  But  it  was  the  only  chance  I  saw.  It  was  just  a 
holdup  —  he  didn't  have  any  more  of  an  interest 
in  that  show  than  the  head  usher  of  the  theater  it 
played  in." 

"  It  might  be  charitable  to  keep  him  out  of 
Hazzard's  way  for  a  while,"  suggested  Brangwyn. 

"  I  guess  it's  up  to  us  to  look  out  for  him,"  said 
[259] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Lansing.  "  I  doubt  if  there's  any  chance  of 
straightening  him  out  —  but  I'll  see  what  one  of 
these  cures  can  do.  We'll  call  it  pay  for  his  assign- 
ment of  his  interest  in  the  show.  By  the  way,  is 
that  in  good  legal  form,  Cliff?" 

"  If  it  isn't,  it's  up  to  Hazen,"  said  Martyn 
dryly.  "  I  gave  him  a  hint  of  what  I  thought  of 
doing.  He  said  that,  as  a  lawyer,  he  couldn't  sanc- 
tion any  such  procedure,  but  that  if  I  should  bring 
it  off,  I  ought  to  use  such  and  such  a  form,  and 
then  he  called  in  a  stenographer  and  dictated  it. 
He  said  it  was  all  purely  hypothetical." 

"  It  was,"  said  Lansing.  "  But  it  isn't  now. 
Well,  I  guess  we've  got  them  beaten  now,  Cliff ! 
You  finish  the  camera  work  tomorrow,  don't 
you?" 

"  Today,"  said  Martyn.  "  I  guess  you'll  see 
some  rosy  streaks  of  dawn  when  we  get  outside. 
Come  on,  there's  a  hotel  'round  the  corner  where 
they'll  look  after  Hoover,  if  we  pay  in  advance. 
I'll  bunk  with  you." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

E.NSING'S  conscience  troubled  him  when  he 
thought  of  Hoover.  True  enough,  Hoover 
deserved  no  consideration.  He  had  simply  let 
himself  be  used  by  Hazzard,  and  he  didn't  even 
have  the  excuse  of  thinking  that  he  had  some  in- 
terest in  "  Crandall's  Revenge."  But  even  if  the 
end  justified  the  means,  if  it  was  fair  to  use  fire 
against  fire,  it  went  against  the  grain.  And  so, 
after  he  had  seen  Martyn  off  to  the  studio,  he 
went  down  to  the  Tenderloin  hotel  where  they  had 
left  Hoover.  The  hotel  people  were  used  to  such 
guests,  and  they  had  restored  him  to  some  sem- 
blance of  manhood.  He  was  eating  a  breakfast 
skillfully  devised  to  appeal  to  one  in  his  condition 
when  Lansing  went  up  to  his  room.  And  he 
regarded  Lansing  with  hostility  and  without 
recognition. 

"  Who  the  devil  are  you?  "  he  inquired. 

"  My  name's  Lansing,  and  you  met  me  last 
night  —  early  this  morning,  maybe  —  while  you 
were  with  Martyn." 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Oh,  Martyn  —  yes,"  said  Hoover.  He 
passed  his  hand  before  his  aching  eyes. 

"Look  here!"  said  Lansing.  "Do  you  re- 
member anything  at  all  about  the  way  you've  been 
acting  lately?  About  letting  Jim  Hazzard  use 
you  to  keep  me  from  producing  '  Crandall's  Re- 
venge '  ?  About  swearing  to  some  false  state- 
ments —  " 

"Oh,  you're  that  Lansing,  are  you?"  said 
Hoover.  His  voice  rose  until,  at  the  end,  he  was 
fairly  screaming.  "  You  can't  bluff  me !  "  he 
cried.  "  You  say  I  lied  —  prove  it !  I'm  not 
afraid  of  you.  Jim  Hazzard's  back  of  me  —  and 
he's  big  enough  to  break  you  in  little  pieces  —  " 

"Hold  on!"  said  Lansing.  "Hoover,  we 
played  a  pretty  low  trick  on  you  last  night,  Mar- 
tyn and  I.  Do  you  remember  signing  anything?  " 

Hoover  started.  His  lips  parted,  as  if  he  were 
about  to  say  something.  But  then  a  light  of  low, 
animal  cunning  shone  in  his  eyes. 

"  You  can't  come  anything  like  that  over  me," 
he  said  defiantly.  "  What  are  you  trying  to  get 
at?" 

"  I've  got  at  it  already,  Hoover,"  said  Lan- 
sing. "  You're  a  pretty  poor  sort  of  thing.  You're 
[262] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


about  as  low  as  I've  ever  seen  a  man  who  had  a 
decent  chance  get.  For  two  years  you've  lived 
by  cadging,  and  you  haven't  even  tried  to  do  any- 
thing for  yourself.  Now  you've  let  Jim  Hazzard 
turn  you  into  a  blackmailer.  We  couldn't  hope 
to  argue  with  you  —  so  we  fooled  you.  You 
signed  an  agreement  last  night  giving  me  any  pre- 
tended interest  you  had  in  *  Crandall's  Revenge.' 
I'll  give  you  three  guesses  about  what  Hazzard 
will  do  when  he  hears  about  it." 

"It's  a  lie!"  screamed  Hoover.  "And  if  I 
did,  it  isn't  binding !  I  was  drunk  —  I  wasn't 
responsible !  " 

"  Binding  enough,"  said  Lansing,  with  a  shrug 
of  his  shoulders.  "  Your  perjury  made  it  likely 
you'd  get  an  injunction  —  and  this  thing  you've 
signed  offsets  that.  Hold  on,  now  —  I  told  you 
it  was  a  pretty  low  trick,  no  matter  what  you'd 
done.  I  don't  enjoy  dipping  into  mud  just  because 
my  opponent  has  done  it.  But  I  had  to." 

Hoover  wasn't  much  of  a  villain.  He  had  the 
will  to  be  a  rascal,  perhaps,  but  dissipation  had 
sapped  his  whole  being.  A  man  who  wants  to 
succeed  in  crooked  paths  needs  good  nerves,  a 
clear  brain.  Quite  suddenly,  and  without  the  least 

[263] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


warning,  Hoover  broke  down  completely,  which 
was  the  last  thing  Lansing  expected. 

"  I  might  have  known  it,"  he  wailed.  "  Haz- 
zard  told  me  it  was  safe.  I  guess  it  was  —  for 
him.  He  didn't  care  what  happened  to  me." 

And  he  went  on.  He  confessed  everything,  and 
he  threw  himself  on  Lansing's  mercy.  It  wasn't 
a  pretty  sight.  Waves  of  disgust  swept  over 
Lansing,  and  he  wanted  to  get  away. 

"Shut  up!"  he  said  finally.  "Look  here,  I 
want  to  do  something  for  you.  You  used  to  have 
some  sort  of  ability.  If  you  could  do  jobs  like 
the  dramatization  of  '  Crandall's  Revenge,'  you 
must  have  had  a  sort  of  talent.  Suppose  I  give 
you  a  chance  to  straighten  out  ?  I'll  pay  your  way 
through  some  sort  of  cure,  and  when  you  come  out 
I'll  see  that  you  get  work,  or  money  —  provided 
I'm  not  broke  then." 

Hoover  only  stared  at  him  dully. 

"  I  can't  blame  you  for  trying  to  hold  me  up," 
Lansing  went  on.  "  You're  not  responsible  for 
that  —  it's  up  to  Hazzard.  And  I'm  figuring  that 
if  you'd  made  a  clean-up  you  might  have  had  a 
chance  to  get  on  your  feet.  So  I'll  give  you  that 
same  chance.  Will  you  take  it?  " 
[264] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Oh,  sure!"  said  Hoover.  "I  will  —  now! 
My  head  feels  as  if  a  couple  of  fellows  were 
standing  over  me  with  big  clubs,  hammering  the 
way  they  do  when  they're  driving  piles  —  first 
one,  then  the  other.  I  always  want  to  quit  the 
stuff  in  the  morning,  after  a  toot.  But  it's  differ- 
ent at  night." 

Lansing  knew  a  doctor  who  had  handled  cases 
like  Hoover's.  He  telephoned  to  him  now,  ex- 
plained the  circumstances,  and  guaranteed  the  ex- 
penses. And  then,  with  a  lightened  conscience,  he 
departed.  He  stood  in  the  sunshine,  when  he  got 
to  the  street,  and  breathed  deep.  There  was 
something  infinitely  depressing  about  Hoover.  He 
represented  one  of  the  by-products  of  this  game 
that  Lansing  was  playing.  It  was  a  game,  a  life, 
in  which  old  standards  were  twisted.  It  was  a 
game  that  rested  upon  the  creation  of  illusion,  and 
in  which  it  was  fatally  easy  to  substitute  deception 
for  illusion.  It  was  a  game  of  easy  victories  as 
well  as  hard,  fine  struggles.  It  was  a  game  in 
which  the  trickster,  the  sharper,  won,  or  seemed 
to  win,  as  often  as  the  honest  man  who  wanted  to 
earn  his  rewards. 

And  —  was  the  game  worth  the  candle?    Was 

[265] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


there  real  profit  to  be  found  in  it  —  profit,  that  is, 
aside  from  the  money  a  man  might  make?  He 
thought  of  Hazzard,  caught  up  in  the  fierce  swirl, 
seeming,  now,  to  prefer  trickery,  downright  dis- 
honesty, to  the  fierce,  clean  fighting  by  which  he 
had  got  his  start.  He  thought  of  Martyn,  an 
artist,  crushed  and  discouraged,  swept  into  a  back- 
water, until  he  had  nearly  become  like  the  pitiful 
creature  he  had  just  left.  And  then  he  thought 
of  Martyn  again,  responding  to  the  call  of  oppor- 
tunity, rallying  himself,  holding  to  the  ideal  he 
had  formed.  He  indulged  in  that  rarest  of  things, 
a  moment  of  self-analysis. 

And  he  knew,  with  a  great  rush  of  pride,  that 
it  was  worth  while.  He  knew  that  he  was  fighting 
not  for  money,  but  for  success,  to  prove  his  own 
quality  to  himself.  And  he  knew  that  if  he  won, 
it  would  be  because  he  could  supply  a  public  need 
—  and  that  he  need  not  be  ashamed.  He  and 
Martyn  had  met  fire  with  fire,  they  had  beaten 
tricks  with  tricks,  but  all  that  was  beside  the  point. 
Deep  down,  they  were  playing  a  clean  game 
cleanly. 

Yet  there  were  things  that  rankled,  and  most 
of  all  the  memory  of  how  Morgan  had  been  won 
[266] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


over  to  stay  and  finish  the  picture.  Was  Mary 
Brewster  simply  playing  with  the  Englishman? 
Had  she  reasoned  that  it  was  as  fair  for  her  to 
trick  him  as  for  him  to  break  his  contract?  Or 
did  she  really  intend  to  marry  him?  He  swore, 
at  the  thought  of  that. 

He  knew  his  own  feeling  well  enough  by  this 
time.  He  was  angry  not  alone  because  of  his 
natural,  male  resentment  at  owing  success  to  a 
woman,  but  because  he  was  in  love  with  her.  The 
uncertainty  he  felt  about  her;  and  his  inability  to 
devote  the  necessary  time  to  clearing  things  up, 
maddened  him. 

As  for  her,  she  had  been  tantalizing,  provok- 
ing, both  to  Morgan  and  Lansing.  She  had 
evaded  Lansing's  few  and  tentative  efforts  to  dis- 
cuss the  matter.  And  she  had  absolutely  refused 
to  let  Morgan  claim  any  of  the  rights  of  an  en- 
gaged man,  as  she  had  refused  to  announce  that 
an  engagement  existed.  None  did,  she  insisted  — 
it  was  a  purely  provisional  arrangement.  Morgan 
had  raged,  but  he  hadn't  been  able  to  do  anything 
about  it. 

Lansing  reached  the  studio  in  time  to  witness  a 
celebration.  Martyn,  with  a  touch  of  sentiment, 
[267] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


had  reserved  the  final  scene  of  the  picture  to  be 
taken  last,  although  the  scenes  that  had  led  up  to 
it  had  been  taken  in  what  must  have  seemed,  to 
anyone  except  the  director  himself,  a  hopeless  and 
inextricable  confusion.  At  his  entrance,  Martyn 
cried  out. 

"  We've  been  waiting  for  you  I  "  he  said. 
"  Here  we  are  —  the  last  scene  of  the  last  reel! 
Picture!" 

At  the  word,  action  began.  The  film  began  to 
run,  with  Jim  Blunt,  alert,  steady,  turning  the 
crank,  and  counting  mechanically.  Swiftly,  surely, 
the  action  proceeded.  Lansing,  in  the  background, 
warmed  to  the  way  these  people  did  their  work. 
They  had  authority.  They  made  their  points 
tellingly,  without  wasting  a  second  or  a  foot  of 
film.  Martyn  sat  almost  silent ;  only  once  or  twice 
did  he  bark  out  a  short  sharp  suggestion.  And 
then  — 

"Break!"  he  cried. 

At  once  the  tension  relaxed.  Everywhere  a  sort 
of  gasp  went  up.  It  was  all  over.  The  picture 
was  finished.  The  part  that  all  these  people  had 
been  playing  in  it  was  accomplished,  for  better  or 
for  worse,  Lansing,  looking  around,  understood 
[268] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


what  they  felt,  the  sense  of  achievement  that  had 
come  to  them.  And  he  understood,  too,  that  this 
was  not  common  -=—  that  something  had  welded 
all  of  them  into  an  enthusiastic  body  such  as  had 
never  before  taken  part  in  the  making  of  a  picture. 
They  had  absorbed  the  energy,  the  spirit,  that  he 
and  Martyn  had  devoted  to  the  enterprise.  It 
was  their  enterprise  as  well  as  his. 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence.  Then  a  storm 
of  talk  broke  out,  hysterical,  high-pitched  from 
the  women ;  eager  and  excited  from  the  men. 
Words  emerged  from  the  jumble.  "  Wonder- 
ful! "  "  A  great  picture!  "  "  Epoch-making!  " 
Half  crying,  half  laughing,  Mary  Brewster  flung 
herself  upon  Martyn  and  kissed  him. 

"  Oh,  I  say!  "  complained  Morgan.  "  That  is 
a  bit  thick  —  what?  " 

So  she  kissed  him,  too.  Lansing,  outside  of  it 
all,  somehow  caught  the  spirit  of  it  —  the  childish 
delight  they  all  took  in  what  they  had  done.  It 
was  naive,  it  was  absurd.  But  there  was  a  sort 
of  significance  to  it,  too.  These  people  could  not 
do  the  work  they  did,  could  not  create  that  magical 
atmosphere  of  illusion  that  was  the  secret  of  suc- 
cess, unless  they  were  capable  of  just  such  out- 
[269] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


bursts  of  emotion,  frank,  naive,  unashamed.  And 
he  was  fired,  seeing  and  understanding,  with  a 
new  realization  of  his  own  part,  of  how  absolutely 
imperative  it  was  that  he  should  let  nothing  inter- 
fere with  ultimate  success.  That  was  up  to  him. 
These  people  had  done  their  share.  He  could  not 
fail  them. 

Martyn's  voice  broke  in  on  the  celebration. 

"  General  call  —  for  Saturday  morning,"  he 
said.  "  You've  all  done  well  —  and  more  than 
well.  Maybe  I've  been  pretty  rough  at  times. 
But  I'm  mighty  well  satisfied  now.  Work  stops 
right  now  —  but  pay  goes  on  until  Saturday,  for 
extras  as  well  as  principals.  On  Saturday,  I'll 
make  an  announcement  about  future  plans.  And 
now  —  clear  the  studio,  if  you  please.  I've  still 
got  a  little  work  to  do." 

There  was  a  general  laugh,  for  they  knew,  these 
professionals,  how  much  work  he  really  had  to  do. 
And  in  five  minutes  they  were  gone,  scattered  to 
the  improvised  dressing  rooms,  and  only  the  echo 
of  their  laughter  remained.  Blunt  was  develop- 
ing; Lathrop  was  gathering  up  his  properties. 
The  mechanical  force  was  busily  engaged  in  clear- 
ing away  the  set-up.  Electricians  were  discon- 
[270] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


necting  the  wires  of  the  great  batteries  of  vacuum 
lights  and  arcs. 


f  '  fcX^    ^2  Gathering  up  the 

properties. 

"  We're  on  the  home  stretch!  "  said  Lansing. 
He  drew  a  deep  breath.  "  I've  arranged  with 
the  censorship  people  to  view  the  picture  Tuesday 
morning.  That  gives  you  time  enough?  " 

"Working  nights  —  yes,"  said  Martyn. 
"  How  about  Adelphia?  You've  got  to  go  up 
against  the  local  censors  there,  you  know." 

"  They  never  dare  to  touch  anything  the  Na- 
tional Board  passes,"  said  Lansing.  "  But  it's 
arranged,  anyhow  - —  for  next  Wednesday  morn- 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


ing.  The  paper  goes  up  as  soon  as  I  wire  releas- 
ing it.  We'll  open  a  week  from  Monday  night. 
And  we're  just  about  coming  through!  When 
I've  cleaned  up  this  week's  pay  roll  and  paid  the 
bills  I'll  have  about  five  hundred  left." 

"  Close  figuring  —  but  we've  had  some  unex- 
pected expenses."  Martyn  grinned  as  he  said  it. 
"  I'd  like  to  know  what  Hazzard  and  company 
have  spent.  Say,  I  didn't  tell  you  before  —  didn't 
have  a  chance.  But  when  I  went  to  Hazzard's 
last  night,  Howell  came  out  of  his  room  just  as 
I  went  in." 

"  I  thought  they'd  join  forces,"  said  Lansing. 
"  Hazzard  never  lets  his  personal  likes  and  dis- 
likes interfere  with  business." 

"  Well,  we've  got  them  licked,  anyhow.  Get 
your  telegram  off.  I've  done  some  work  on  this 
cutting  and  arranging  already  —  the  first  three 
reels  are  practically  ready.  I'll  keep  Blunt  here 
tonight.  If  they  don't  fall  down  on  us  with  the 
positives  we'll  be  all  right." 

Lansing  knew  that  he  should  feel  elated.  He 
and  Martyn  had  done  a  thing  that  half  the  motion- 
picture  industry  had  pronounced  impossible. 

[272] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Crandall's  Revenge "  was  completed.  The 
obstacles  had  been  swept  aside.  In  spite  of  every 
fair  and  unfair  attempt  that  had  been  made  to  spoil 
the  picture  and  to  prevent  it  from  being  finished, 
it  was  done.  And  yet  Lansing,  with  the  echo  of 
laughter  coming  to  him  from  the  dressing  rooms, 
felt  oddly,  unaccountably  depressed. 

It  was  the  studio  that  did  it,  perhaps.  For  now, 
with  the  camera  standing  deserted,  with  the  stage 
hands  quickly  striking  the  scenes  and  clearing  away 
the  sets,  all  the  illusion  seemed  to  have  vanished. 
The  mockery  of  solid  sets  that  were  solid  only 
within  the  camera's  range,  the  trickery  and  pre- 
tence that  Martyn  had  relied  upon  to  make  up  for 
the  lack  of  money,  all  this  was  emphasized.  The 
spirit  was  out  of  Lansing  and  out  of  the  studio,  too, 
it  seemed. 

And  then  he  began  to  reflect  upon  his  own  part 
in  all  that  had  been  done.  What  did  that  amount 
to,  after  all?  When  Morgan  had  deserted  them 
the  whole  enterprise  had  hung  in  the  balance.  And 
so,  too,  when  Martyn  had  been  lured  away.  But 
if  he,  Lansing,  had  been  the  one  who  had  turned 
up  missing  there  would  have  been  no  thought  of 
abandoning  the  picture.  Everything  would  have 
[273] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


gone  on;  some  one  else,  Brangwyn,  perhaps,  would 
have  supplied  the  money  and  stepped  into  his  shoes. 

Lansing  shook  his  head  as  he  glanced  up  at  the 
great  batteries  of  vacuum  lights,  dark  now  and 
idle.  And  somehow  he  was  shaken  by  a  wave  of 
distaste  for  the  whole  game  that  he  had  played. 
Once  more  those  doubts  that  had  assailed  him  after 
his  victory  over  Hoover  came  to  plague  him.  Was 
it  worth  while?  Wasn't  the  whole  thing  cheap, 
shoddy,  meretricious?  Had  there  ever  been  a  real 
chance  to  lift  the  movies  up,  to  try  to  develop  them 
into  a  legitimate  art  form?  Perhaps  he  was  going 
to  make  money.  But  money,  after  all,  was  not  the 
test  of  success;  certainly,  at  least,  it  was  not  the 
only  test.  His  father  had  never  measured  success 
wholly  by  money.  Lansing  laughed,  rather  bitterly, 
at  the  thought  that  he  had  believed  that  he  was 
following  in  his  father's  footsteps,  was  playing  the 
part  of  a  pioneer. 

He  remembered  now  the  contemptuous  allusions 
of  people  he  had  known  in  the  old  days,  before  the 
smash,  to  the  movies.  Indeed,  he  had  talked  in 
that  vein  himself.  He  had  not  changed  his  opinion 
of  the  pictures  that  had  inspired  him  to  say  those 
things;  he  had  believed  only  that  he  himself  could 

[274] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


have  a  hand  in  productions  that  would  deserve  a 
better  fate.  And  it  seemed  to  him  now  that  he 
had  failed;  that  "  Crandall's  Revenge"  was  no 
better,  in  essentials,  than  the  old  films  he  had 
despised. 

Only  a  few  days  before  he  had  laughed  as  he 
flung  a  letter  from  a  society  devoted  to  the  uplift 
of  the  drama  into  his  waste  basket.  He  had  been 
active  in  that  society  once,  in  its  early  days;  he  had 
contributed  money  to  efforts  to  interest  New  York 
in  the  plays  of  Strindberg,  Wedekind,  and  others 
of  the  great  Continental  playwrights.  Now,  it 
seemed,  the  society  meant  to  turn  its  attention  to 
the  menace  of  the  movies.  He  remembered  one 
sentence  in  the  letter. 

It  is  the  duty  of  all  who  are  interested  in  the  future 
development  of  a  native  American  drama,  which  is  abso- 
lutely dependent  upon  the  fostering  of  a  native  American 
taste  for  the  best  in  the  theater,  to  consider  seriously  some 
means  of  checking  the  debasing  and  fast-spreading  popu- 
larity of  moving  pictures;  a  public  devoted  to  the  trashy 
delights  of  the  screen  will  never  provide  audiences  for 
the  theater  of  ideas. 

He  had  laughed  at  that ;  but  he  didn't  laugh  now. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  it  struck  home;  that  he  had, 
[275] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


to  restore  his  own  fortunes,  struck  a  blow  at  an 
art  that  had  meant  much  to  him.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  he  had  deluded  himself  with  the  belief  that 
he  could  prove  that  the  development  of  moving 
pictures  might  be  such  as  to  develop  at  the  same 
time  a  taste  for  what  was  sound  and  good  in  the 
spoken  drama. 

Inevitably  this  sort  of  thing  led  him  on  to  the 
feeling  that  nothing  but  failure  lay  ahead  of  him; 
that  the  public,  upon  which  the  success  of  his  exper- 
iment depended,  would  reject  it.  He  shook  his 
head  at  last,  and  walked  slowly  to  the  door  and 
out  into  the  road.  And  as  he  made  his  way  down 
the  hill  toward  the  trolley  his  depression  was 
obvious  in  his  listless  walk,  in  the  sagging  of  his 
shoulders.  Mary  Brewster  was  beside  him  before 
he  was  conscious  of  her  presence. 

"  Oh,  cheer  up !  "  she  said.  "  It  isn't  as  bad  as 
you  think  it  is.  Heavens !  Cliff  Martyn's  the  only 
one  of  the  lot  of  us  who  doesn't  feel  blue  —  and 
that's  only  because  he's  got  too  much  to  do  to  relax. 
I've  had  my  spell,  and  I've  got  it  out  of  my  system. 
Do  you  know  what  I  did  as  soon  as  I  got  to  my 
dressing-room  and  locked  the  door?  " 

He  turned  to  smile  at  her,  without  answering. 
[276] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


But  he  felt  already  the  contagion  of  her  invincible 
cheerfulness. 

"  I  sat  down  and  howled !  "  she  confessed.  "  I 
hated  the  picture  and  myself  and  everything  and 
everyone  in  the  whole  world.  And  then  I  began 
to  look  back  —  and  I  knew  I  was  wrong.  Oh, 
wait  till  you  see  that  picture  run  off.  You  know  it, 
you  know  it  inside  out,  the  way  the  rest  of  us  do ; 
but  you'll  want  to  get  up  and  cheer,  just  the  same. 
You'll  see  that  we've  made  your  dream  come  true." 

"  My  dream?  "  he  said,  and  she  looked  at  him 
in  quick  concern.  For  a  moment  there  was  a  mes- 
sage in  her  eyes  that  the  stupidest  man  might  have 
read.  But  he  did  not  see  it.  "  Mary,  I  think  that's 
just  it.  You  may  be  right,  but  what  have  I  had  to 
do  with  it?" 

"Everything!"  she  said.  "Just  everything; 
that's  all.  I  know  these  people,  remember.  I've 
seen  them  work,  and  I've  seen  the  pictures  they've 
made.  And  —  well,  this  is  something  new  for 
them.  They  had  a  chance,  you  see,  and  it  was  the 
chance  you  gave  them." 

"  Martyn,"  he  interrupted.  "  You  mustn't  for- 
get that  the  picture  is  his  —  " 

"  No  more  than  yours,"  she  said.  "  He's  never 
[277] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


made  a  picture  like  this  before,  has  he?  And  it 
isn't  only  because  they  wouldn't  let  him.  It's 
because  he  had  to  wait  for  you  to  come  along  and 
show  him  and  the  rest  of  us  that  moving  pictures 
and  real  drama  could  go  together.  After  this 
everyone  will  fall  into  line;  but  you're  the  one  who 
showed  the  way." 

He  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"  I  think  you  mean  that,"  he  said;  "  but  how  did 
you  know  that  that  was  just  what  I  wanted  to  hear? 
Listen,  this  is  what  I  was  thinking  about  before 
you  came." 

And  he  told  her  of  the  letter  he  had,  quoting 
to  her,  as  nearly  as  he  could,  the  sentence  that  had 
stayed  in  his  memory.  She  laughed,  almost  con- 
temptuously. 

"  Oh  —  people  like  that !  "  she  said.  "  I  know 
them.  They  shrug  their  shoulders  at  anything  the 
public  likes.  And  I  tell  you  the  public  likes  the 
best  thing  it  can  get,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten.  It 
makes  mistakes;  it  likes  some  things  that  are  bad, 
and  very,  very  often  it  doesn't  like  things  that  are 
good.  But  I  think  if  I  were  a  writer  or  a  painter 
I'd  always  believe  that  the  public  had  some  good 
reason  for  what  it  does.  I'd  look  for  something 
[278] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


good  in  a  popular  thing  I  didn't  like.  I'd  be  pretty 
certain  that  if  I  only  looked  deep  enough  I'd  find 
something  bad  in  what  I  thought  was  good  if  the 
public  disagreed  with  me." 

"  I'd  like  to  get  you  in  a  debate  with  the  man 
who  wrote  that  letter,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh. 
"  You're  awfully  right.  He's  afraid  of  popular 
things.  But  some  of  the  stuff  is  pretty  bad.  You 
can't  defend  the  average  movie  —  and  the  public 
likes  it  —  " 

"  I  said  it  liked  the  best  thing  it  could  get,"  she 
rejoined.  "  The  movies  haven't  been  an  —  art 
form,  do  you  call  it?  They've  filled  a  hole.  People 
have  liked  them  because  they  gave  them  something 
to  do,  and  because  they  were  exciting.  But  that 
won't  last.  That's  what  the  Hazzards  haven't 
seen.  And  it's  what  you  have  seen  —  and  its 
what  Martyn  has  been  groping  for,  and  a  good 
many  others,  too.  You  have  only  to  wait  and 
see  what  the  public's  going  to  think  of  our 
picture,  and  of  the  ones  that  are  going  to  follow 
that!  " 

They  had  stopped,  half-way  down  the  hill,  to 
talk.  And  now  the  car,  that  had  been  clanging 
impatiently  at  them  for  two  or  three  minutes,  went 
[279] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


off.  They  stared  down,  and  then  they  faced  one 
another,  laughing. 

"  That's  what  you  get  for  making  me  talk,"  she 
said.  "But  —  you  do  feel  better,  don't  you? 
You're  not  going  to  sag  that  way  again?  " 

"  No,"  he  told  her.  "  I'm  not.  You  know  — 
I  think  I  ought  to  have  you  around  all  the  time  to 
keep  me  up  to  the  mark." 

The  color  flooded  her  cheeks  then,  for  a  moment, 
and  she  had  to  bite  her  lips  before  she  could  smile. 

For  a  moment,  as  he  looked  at  her,  Lansing  was 
moved  to  go  on.  But  then  he  remembered  Mor- 
gan, and  her  promise  to  the  actor.  And  his  old 
doubt  assailed  him.  Had  she  made  the  promise  to 
Morgan  just  to  hold  him  in  line  ?  Or  had  she  some 
feeling,  after  all,  for  him? 

He  had  tried  to  sound  her  more  than  once,  but 
she  had  repulsed  his  efforts  easily.  Since  the  day 
when  she  had  saved  him  by  her  intervention  she 
had  never  referred  to  the  matter;  she  had  silenced 
him  when  he  had  tried  to  bring  the  subject  up.  And 
now  he  determined,  suddenly,  that  he  would  have 
his  say;  that  he  would  not  let  her  put  him  off. 

"  Mary !  "  he  said,  "  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  you 
and  Morgan  —  of  the  promise  you  made  him. 
[280] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


You're  not  going  to  let  yourself  be  bound  by  that, 
are  you?  You  know  that  no  one  would  blame  you 
for  treating  it  as  if  you  had  never  made  it?  " 

"  I  don't  see  why,"  she  said,  slowly.  She  had 
changed  her  mind  as  he  spoke.  At  first  she  had 
tried  to  check  him;  then,  with  a  certain  curious  sort 
of  resignation,  she  waited  for  him  to  have  his  say 
out.  "  I  made  the  promise.  I  suppose  no  one  can 
force  me  to  keep  it,  unless  I  do  that  myself.  And, 
you  see,  that  is  just  what  I  feel  that  I  must  do." 

"  But  it's  monstrous !  "  he  cried.  "  Mary !  The 
man  —  why,  I  suppose  he's  all  right  as  an  actor, 
but  in  every  other  respect  —  " 

"  I  think  you're  a  little  unfair,"  she  said,  and  her 
eyes  warned  him  that  in  another  moment  she  might 
lose  her  temper.  "  And  —  I  don't  want  to  borrow 
a  speech  from  a  society  drama  —  but  just  what 
right  have  you  to  order  my  life?  " 

"  You  did  it  for  me  —  for  the  sake  of  the  pic- 
ture !  "  he  said.  "  You  can't  deny  that  —  " 

"  Say  that  I  won't !  "  she  flashed.  "  I'll  deny 
nothing,  because  I  need  not." 

"  I  hated  to  have  you  do  it,"  he  went  on,  as  if 
she  had  not  spoken.  "  I'd  rather  have  had  him  go. 
But  he  was  trying  to  play  a  trick  —  and  a  particu- 
[281] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


larly  mean  and  contemptible  one.  Any  means 
could  be  fairly  used  to  beat  him." 

"  I  don't  want  to  quarrel,"  she  said.  Her  eyes 
were  very  bright;  the  color  was  flaming  in  her 
cheeks.  "  But  if  you  say  another  word  —  " 

He  looked  at  her  in  amazement,  and  suddenly 
he  stiffened. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "  I  shouldn't 
have  spoken  of  it.  I  see  that  now.  I  won't  annoy 
you  again." 

It  was  what  she  should  have  wanted  him  to  say. 
And  yet,  she  was  not  satisfied.  She  hesitated  for  a 
moment,  tapping  her  foot. 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  she  said.  "  Why 
should  you  care?  What  right  have  you  to  tell  me 
what  I  am  to  do?  No  one  has  tried  to  exercise 
such  a  right  —  no  one  has  ever  interfered  with  me 
since  I  grew  up ;  but  you  —  " 

"  I'm  sorry,"  he  said,  again.  "  You're  per- 
fectly right,  of  course.  I  had  no  right  to  speak  as 
I  did  —  none  whatever.  Will  you  try  to  forget  it 
and  to  forgive  me?  And  will  you  believe  that  I 
am  grateful?  Not  only  for  the  way  you  have 
worked,  but  for  the  things  you  have  just  been 
saying?  " 

[282] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Oh,  I  haven't  done  anything  for  you,"  she 
said,  impatiently.  "  It's  very  much  the  other  way. 
But  I  wish  —  I  do  wish  I  knew  why  you  thought 
you  could  speak  to  me  as  you  did.  It  was  not  like 
you  —  " 

"  Oh,  yes  it  was,"  he  said.  "  You  see,  I've  been 
catching  Martyn's  trick  with  you  and  the  rest  of 
the  company,  I  think.  I  haven't  his  paternal  man- 
ner, but  it  seems  that  I  couldn't  resist  the  impulse 
to  speak  out  when  I  thought  you  were  going  to 
make  a  mistake.  But  I  shan't  offend  again." 

"  Here  comes  your  car,"  she  said,  abruptly. 
"  Don't  miss  it;  you  have  a  lot  to  do,  I  know.  And 
I've  just  remembered  that  I  forgot  some  things  I 
want  to  take  home  with  me  —  they're  in  my  dress- 
ing-room. I'm  afraid  I  won't  have  time  to  get 
back  and  catch  this  car." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  he  said.  "  But  I  think  I  will 
go  on." 

It  was  a  very  stiff  and  formidable  back  that  she 
saw  as  he  went  toward  the  car. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

E.NSING  cursed  himself  after  he  had  left 
Mary  Brewster,  for  his  clumsiness.  He  had 
angered  her,  but  he  was  angry,  too,  and  with  her, 
as  well  as  with  himself.  She  eluded  him.  He  did 
not  believe  that  she  could  care  for  Morgan,  and 
yet  was  not  sure.  Never  once,  since  he  had  known 
her,  had  she  let  down  the  ultimate  bars  of  her 
reserve.  He  had  glimpses  into  her  mind  from 
time  to  time,  and  yet  they  never  satisfied  him.  But 
of  his  own  feelings  there  was  no  longer  any  doubt; 
nor  of  the  necessity  of  concealing  them  from  her. 

Had  there  been  less  for  him  to  do  he  might  have 
brooded  about  his  relations  with  her;  might  have 
done  some  foolish,  reckless  thing.  But  there  was 
work  in  abundance  ready  to  his  hand.  The  real 
burden  might  be  on  Martyn's  shoulders,  but  Lan- 
sing found  that  his  own  share  would  make  any- 
thing that  had  gone  before  look  like  play. 

Some  time  before  he  had  engaged  a  press  agent. 
He  had  passed  over  a  number  of  men  whose  repu- 
tations were  already  secure.  And  this  he  had  done 

[284] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


for  several  reasons.  He  wanted  a  man  who  was 
not  bound  by  traditions.  Some  knowledge  of  mov- 
ing pictures,  it  was  true,  was  essential,  but  what 
was  even  more  important  was  readiness  to  blaze 
a  new  trail.  And  he  had  found  his  man  in  a  young 
westerner,  Clinton  Baker,  who  had  been  in  New 
York  about  a  year  and  had  been  picked  up  by  a 
motion-picture  trade  paper  after  a  few  months  of 
general  newspaper  work. 

"  I  want  you  to  go  over  to  Adelphia  and  look 
mysterious,"  Lansing  had  told  him.  "  When  I 
wire  you,  cut  loose.  By  that  time  you  ought  to  be 
friendly  with  every  man  who  can  help  you.  Spend 
money  in  advertising.  Don't  ask  for  favors  — 
make  them  come  to  you  for  news  stories.  Be 
reticent,  but  drop  enough  hints  for  them  to  know 
that  there's  something  stirring  on  a  big  scale." 

Baker  had  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  game 
from  the  first.  He  was  an  enthusiast  for  Lansing's 
idea.  After  he  had  talked  to  Martyn,  and  had 
seen  parts  of  the  picture,  he  was  convinced  that 
"  Crandall's  Revenge  "  was  to  mark  an  epoch. 
And  his  work  in  Adelphia  did  far  more  than  fulfill 
Lansing's  hopes.  Baker,  a  first-rate  reporter,  was 
not  content  with  the  ordinary  press  matter;  he  sup- 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


plied  each  paper  with  specially  written  stories. 
And  Lansing  gloated  as  he  read  the  Adelphia 
sheets,  and  was  more  than  ever  convinced  that  he 
had  been  wise  in  deciding  to  avoid  New  York  for 
his  opening. 

Meanwhile  he  himself  had  enough  to  keep  him 
busy,  in  and  around  New  York.  There  were  slight 
delays  in  the  printing  of  the  positives,  and  Lan- 
sing had  to  take  some  routine  work  off  Martyn's 
shoulders. 

"  I'm  pretty  nearly  all  in,  Bob,"  Martyn  con- 
fessed. "  My  nerves  are  screeching.  A  dozen 
times  I've  rushed  out  to  get  a  drink  —  but  I've 
always  stopped  before  I  got  it.  And  once  I  had  a 
glass  in  my  hand!  " 

"  Good  enough,"  said  Lansing.  "  You  don't 
need  it,  Cliff  —  you  only  think  you  do.  If  I 
thought  it  would  help  I'd  tell  you  to  go  to  it  —  but 
this  is  just  the  last  fight  you're  going  to  have  with 
the  Demon  Rum,  and  you'd  better  beat  him  up 
good  and  plenty  and  be  done  with  him !  " 

"  Oh,  I  know,"  said  Martyn,  ruefully,  "  but  — 

if  you  don't  want  to  have  to  bail  me  out  for  murder 

keep  me  away  from  anyone  who  gets  in  the  way  in 

the  next  few  days  I    I  used  to  think  I  had  a  pretty 

[286] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


good  disposition.  But  ask  Teddy  Lathrop  about 
me  since  we  made  that  last  scene.  Anyone  but 
Teddy  would  have  brained  me  for  some  of  the 
things  I've  called  him.  I'm  so  sick  of  my  own  face 
that  I  hate  to  see  a  mirror." 

Lansing  laughed  at  him,  which  was  the  best 
thing  he  could  have  done.  Also,  he  insisted, 
despite  Martyn's  almost  tearful  protests,  upon 
taking  him  to  the  first  performance  of  a  new  sum- 
mer show,  which,  for  general  inanity,  broke  even 
the  New  York  record. 

"  Queer,"  said  Martyn.  "  I  feel  better  than 
I've  done  in  days !  " 

That  was  after  the  show,  and  Lansing  laughed 
again. 

"Bully  show!"  said  Martyn,  quite  seriously. 
"  Best  thing  I've  seen  in  the  way  of  a  musical  show 
since  '  The  Merry  Widow.'  " 

"  Glad  you  liked  it,"  said  Lansing,  dryly. 

That  was  the  night  before  the  review  of  the  film 
by  the  National  Board  of  Censorship.  Lansing 
himself  was  nervous;  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the 
board  had  no  actual  power  to  bar  the  film,  he  knew 
how  important  was  its  approval.  The  National 
Board  is  a  voluntary  body,  maintained  by  the  film 
[287] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


manufacturers  themselves.  But  its  decisions  are 
accepted  by  many  towns  and  cities,  and  the  fact  that 
its  censoring  committees  are  not  paid  for  the  time 
they  devote  to  the  work  plays  a  great  part  in  the 
authority  its  decisions  have  acquired. 

It  seemed  to  Lansing  that  the  picture  was  proof 
against  any  censorship.  And  yet,  when  he  arrived 
next  morning  at  the  projection  room  he  had  hired 
for  the  test  he  found  Martyn,  utterly  unnerved, 
raging  against  the  committee. 

"  They  want  the  gambling  scene  cut  out!  "  he 
cried.  "  They'd  ruin  the  whole  picture  on  a  techni- 
cality!" 

"  Steady,  Cliff,"  said  Lansing. 

Patiently,  carefully,  he  listened  to  the  complaints 
of  the  committee.  Martyn's  overwrought  nerves 
had  given  way  at  the  first  hint  of  criticism ;  he  had 
antagonized  the  committee  by  his  vehemence.  A 
little  tact  obviated  most  of  the  difficulty  with  the 
censors;  cutting  and  patching  that  could  be  done  in 
a  single  afternoon  disposed  of  what  little  remained 
to  be  done. 

And  in  every  other  respect  everything  was  mov- 
ing smoothly.  Baker's  publicity  work  was  begin- 
ning to  show  results;  the  trade  papers  had  sud- 
[288] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


denly  awakened  to  the  importance  of  Lansing's 
experiment.  What  was  more  significant,  however, 
was  the  space  that  was  devoted  to  the  picture  in 
the  daily  press.  It  was  this  that  brought  Lansing 
the  first  promise  of  recognition.  Two  or  three  of 
the  more  important  State's-rights  concerns  scented 
a  coming  opportunity,  and  began  to  make  tentative 
proposals  to  Lansing  through  their  executives. 

"  If  you  put  this  thing  over  in.  Adelphia  you've 
got  us  where  you  want  us,"  said  one  of  these  men. 
"  You're  offering  us  a  big  chance  —  and  I  guess 
I'm  not  too  hidebound  to  see  it!  The  manu- 
facturers thought  they  had  us  on  the  run  with 
their  big  exchange  systems  —  but  I  guess  this  is 
going  to  make  them  sit  up  and  take  notice  1  " 

This  was  an  accolade,  really.  It  meant  success 
—  the  big  success  that  would  justify  everything. 
For  it  meant  distribution.  Already,  Lansing  had 
begun  to  think  of  the  successor  of  "  Crandall's 
Revenge."  It  ought  to  be  begun  at  once  —  the 
time  to  strike  was  while  the  iron  was  hot.  His 
depleted  capital  didn't  worry  him.  Once  the  suc- 
cess of  "  Crandall's  Revenge  "  was  assured  he 
could  borrow  all  the  capital  he  needed,  and  on  his 
own  terms. 

[289] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Off  to  Adelphia  went  Martyn,  with  Blunt  and 
Lathrop  to  act  as  escort  to  him  and  the  five  pre- 
cious metal  containers  in  which  the  five-thousand- 
foot  parts  of  "  Crandall's  Revenge  "  were  packed. 
Lansing,  planning  to  leave  next  day  and  reach 
Adelphia  in  time  to  hear  the  verdict  of  the  local 
censorship,  waited  to  attend  to  final  details.  And 
to  his  tiny  office,  late  that  afternoon,  came  Jim 
Hazzard,  unannounced,  flinging  open  the  door, 
and  filling  the  small  room  beyond  the  desk  at 
which  Lansing  sat. 

"Hello!"  said  Lansing.  He  was  bubbling 
with  triumph;  exultation  sent  the  blood  dancing 
through  his  veins  like  champagne.  He  couldn't 
harbor  anger.  The  man  who  has  won  seldom 
can.  "  Come  around  to  make  up?  " 

"  You  said  it !  "  grunted  Hazzard.  "  You're  a 
two-fisted  man.  You've  put  up  a  fight  I'd  have 
been  proud  to  make  myself.  You've  come  near  to 
licking  us.  And  because  of  that  I  won't  see  you 
go  down.  I'll  do  what  I've  never  done  before  — 
I'll  make  again  an  offer  that's  been  turned  down 
once.  Western  Film  will  take  over  your  film  as 
it  stands,  pay  what  it  cost  to  produce  it.  And  you 
can  come  in  with  me !  " 

[290] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Lansing  stared.  Hazzard  was  looking  straight 
at  him.  And  his  eyes  were  the  calm,  confident 
eyes  of  a  man  who  has  the  game  in  his  hands. 

"  We've  got  you,  boy,"  he  went  on.  "  You've 
beaten  us  up  to  now  —  but  this  time  we've  left 
nothing  open.  We  could  have  beaten  you  before 
if  we'd  known  how  little  money  you  had  —  but 
none  of  us  dreamed  you  had  the  gall  to  make  a 
play  like  this  on  a  shoe  string!  I'm  not  bluffing 
—  I  can  tell  you,  within  fifty  dollars,  what  you've 
got  left." 

Lansing  laughed. 

"  You've  tried  to  bluff  me  before,"  he  began. 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Hazzard;  "  and  you've  called 
our  bluff.  So  this  time  we  dealt  ourselves  the 
cards.  If  we  did  it  from  the  bottom  of  the  pack, 
that  won't  save  you !  Hear  me,  now  —  and  un- 
derstand it's  facts  I'm  telling  you.  You'll  not 
open  at  the  Apollo  come  Monday  night.  You'll 
not  show  your  picture  in  Adelphia  at  all.  And 
you've  not  the  money  to  hang  on  while  you  find 
another  theater  —  which  you  could  not  do  with- 
out  building  it,  not  if  you  had  the  subtreasury  to 
draw  from !  " 

For  a  minute  they  stared  at  one  another.  Not 
[291  ] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


for  a  moment  did  Lansing  doubt  that  Hazzard 
spoke  the  truth.  That  he  could  not  conceive  of  a 
way  in  which  this  could  be  so  mattered  not  at  all. 
There  was  conviction  in  Hazzard's  whole  appear- 
ance. This  time,  at  least,  he  was  not  bluffing. 

"Come,  what  do  you  say?"  said  Hazzard. 
"  We've  no  hard  feelings.  It's  to  protect  our- 
selves we've  fought  you.  You're  trying  to  put 
over  something  that  would  change  the  whole  busi- 
ness —  and  we  like  it  as  it  is.  It's  to  show  we've 
no  grudge  that  I  make  you  the  offer.  Come  — 
yes  or  no?  " 

"  No,"  said  Lansing  very  quietly,  very  quickly, 
very  finally.  "  Oh,  I  believe  you !  "  He  cut  off 
Hazzard's  words  with  a  gesture.  "  But  I'll  take 
my  chance  of  losing  it  all.  I  won't  sell  out. 
You've  admitted  the  big  thing  —  that  I'm  on  the 
right  track.  And  I'll  tell  you  now  —  even  if  you 
smash  me,  someone  else  will  do  what  I've  tried  to 
do.  So,  even  if  you  win,  you  lose." 

Hazzard  looked  at  him,  weighed  him. 

"You're  a  fool,  after  all,"  he  said.  "My 
offer's  withdrawn.  But  remember  it  was  made!  " 

He  went  out.  Lansing  sat  for  a  long  time, 
thinking.  And,  curiously,  he  slept  as  well  that 
[292  ] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


night  as  he  had  ever  slept  in  his  life.  This  sur- 
prised him  when  he  woke  up  in  the  morning.  A 
few  hours  later,  he  was  in  Adelphia.  And  there 
any  lingering  hope  that  Hazzard  might,  after  all, 
have  been  making  one  last,  gigantic  bluff,  was 
dispelled. 

"  They've  refused  to  pass  the  film,"  Martyn 
told  him,  "  and  they've  served  notice  on  Roth 
that  if  it's  shown  he'll  lose  his  license." 


[293] 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

BAKER,  almost  sobbing  with  rage,  had  the 
explanation  ready. 

"  This  town's  boss  ridden,"  he  said.  "  Talk 
about  Tammany!  Why,  Tammany  never  even 
dreamed  of  trying  the  things  they  pull  off  here 
without  batting  an  eye.  The  gang  here  has  abso- 
lute power,  because  it  runs  the  State  as  well  as  the 
city.  And  this  moving-picture  censorship  was 
created  just  because  of  the  chance  of  graft. 

"  Hazzard  saw  it  —  saw  it  before  anyone. 
While  the  other  manufacturers  fought  the  bill,  he 
backed  it.  And  it's  been  in  his  pocket  from  the 
start.  Don't  ask  me  what  it  costs  him ;  but  I  guess 
he  gets  his  money's  worth.  That's  the  only  virtue 
these  crooks  down  here  have.  They  stay  bought. 
When  they've  once  taken  your  money,  you  own 
them." 

"  There's  no  way  of  beating  it?  " 

"  I  hired  a  lawyer,  and  he's  trying  to  get  an 
injunction,"  said  Martyn.  "  But  he  doesn't  give 
us  any  hope.  He  says  the  higher  courts  would 
[294] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


probably  give  us  a  square  deal,  but  that  means 
from  six  months  to  a  year.  And  there's  no  way 
of  getting  into  the  United  States  courts  —  which 
aren't  for  sale." 

"  Then  we'll  pass  up  Adelphia,"  said  Lansing 
crisply.  "  One  thing  I  won't  do  —  bang  my  head 
against  a  stone  wall.  Martyn,  you  and  Baker 
stay  here  till  you  hear  from  me.  Keep  your  law- 
yer busy.  File  notices  of  appeal.  Baker,  start  a 
campaign  in  the  reform  papers,  if  you  can  —  try 
to  kick  up  a  scandal.  Make  it  seem  that  we're 
going  to  fight  it  out  to  a  finish  here.  But  —  don't 
spend  any  real  money." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do?  "  asked  Martyn. 

"  I  don't  know  yet.  But  I'm  going  down  with 
every  gun  that's  above  water  firing!  I'm  going 
back  to  New  York.  We're  blocked  here  —  that's 
sure.  So  the  only  thing  to  do  is  to  try  to  win 
somewhere  else.  That's  why  I  want  you  two  to 
stay  here  and  make  a  bluff.  If  Hazzard  thinks 
we're  still  hoping  to  come  through  here,  he  won't 
be  so  watchful  in  other  places  —  New  York,  for 
instance." 

Hazzard  had  made  good  his  threat.  Certainly 
his  hand  had  been  dealt  from  the  bottom  of  the 
[295] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


pack  —  but  certainly,  too,  it  was  the  high  hand. 
Lansing,  settled  in  his  train,  was  in  a  cold  rage. 

Trick  for  trick  —  chicane  for  chicane.  Any- 
thing was  fair  now,  he  knew  —  any  weapon  might 
be  used  that  should  come  to  his  hand.  But  none 
came.  Looking  out  of  the  car  window,  he  saw 
the  smoke  of  New  York  rising,  the  great  sky  line 
piercing  the  clouds,  before  even  the  germ  of  an 
idea  came  to  him. 

He  knew  precisely  what  forces  were  aligned 
against  him  now.  Cramer  and  Howell  stood  with 
Hazzard.  They  would  contribute  to  the  unholy 
alliance  the  great  theatrical  syndicate  with  which 
they  were  connected.  That  closed  more  than  half 
the  theaters  in  New  York  to  him  at  once,  and, 
through  its  truce  with  the  sometime  independent 
group,  the  syndicate  could  now  bar  him  from  the 
rest.  There  were  independent  theater  owners  in 
New  York,  of  course.  But  they  were  helpless. 
They  would  not  dare  to  come  to  his  aid,  for  the 
plays  they  produced,  to  be  profitable,  must  have 
long  road  tours  —  and  the  road  was  closed  to 
those  who  offended  the  syndicate  or  the  group  with 
which  it  was  temporarily  allied. 

If  he  had  money,  he  could  wait,  bide  his  time, 

[296] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


seize  the  chance  that  would  surely  come  later. 
But  —  he  had  no  money,  and  the  enemy  knew  it. 
He  had  staked  all  on  a  moment  —  and  the  mo- 
ment was  passing.  He  did  think  of  Sandy 
Brangwyn,  but  only  to  cast  the  thought  out.  That 
refuge  he  would  not  seek. 

When  he  reached  New  York  he  hailed  a  taxicab 
and  made  for  a  theater  in  the  heart  of  the  upper 
Broadway  region.  In  the  old  days,  he  had  amused 
himself,  more  than  once,  by  taking  an  interest  in 
certain  plays,  productions  made  by  the  man  he 
was  now  on  his  way  to  see,  who  was  the  head  of 
those  opposition  managers  now  bound  to  the  syn- 
dicate by  a  temporary  and,  Lansing  hoped,  an  inse- 
cure truce.  He  depended  upon  his  old  connection 
with  Frobert  for  an  interview,  and  not  in  vain. 
But  Frobert  shook  his  head  playfully,  even  while 
he  greeted  him. 

"  I  can  guess  what  you  want,  Mr.  Lansing,"  he 
said.  "  I'd  like  to  give  you  a  theater  —  but  it 
would  mean  a  fight  with  the  syndicate,  and  we  are 
not  ready  to  start  that  again  yet." 

The  frank  cynicism  of  this  didn't  surprise  Lan- 
sing, nor  did  it  disgust  him.  He  knew  his  Broad- 
way too  well. 

[297] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  I'm  outside  of  this,  you  understand,"  Frobert 
went  on.  "  But  I've  had  my  orders  —  you're  not 
to  get  a  theater.  Anything  else  I  can  do  —  " 

"  Look  here,  Frobert,"  said  Lansing.  "  I'm  not 
fool  enough  to  appeal  to  you  on  sentimental 
grounds.  You're  a  business  man,  and  I'm  here 
with  a  business  proposition." 

"  Then  I  should  turn  you  down,  in  any  case," 
said  Frobert,  evenly.  "  In  this  business  it  is  by 
being  unbusinesslike  that  one  makes  money,  Mr. 
Lansing." 

"  Forget  it !  "  snapped  Lansing.  "  Frobert  —  I 
used  to  think  sometimes  that  you  could  look  into 
the  future.  Have  you  seen  anything  in  the  movies 
except  a  new  rival  that's  emptied  your  cheap  seats? 
And,  even  if  you  haven't,  haven't  you  ever  thought 
of  doing  with  this  rival  what  you've  always  done 
with  every  other  —  combining?  " 

Frobert  shook  his  head. 

"  I  never  think,"  he  said.  "  I'm  a  theatrical 
manager.  Don't  you  read  the  editorials  in  the 
papers?  " 

"  I'm  offering  you  the  biggest  chance  you've  ever 
had,"  said  Lansing.  "Listen  to  me:  the  movies 
are  here  to  stay,  and  so  is  the  big-feature  film — the 
[298] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


film  like  mine.  They  may  beat  me.  If  you  don't 
help  me,  they  probably  will.  But  someone  else  will 
come  along  whom  they  can't  beat.  And  films  like 
that  aren't  going  to  be  shown  in  ten-cent  theaters. 
They're  going  to  help  to  fill  up  all  the  houses  you 
and  Klanger  have  built  against  one  another. 
They're  going  to  keep  your  theaters  open  in  the 
summer.  And  you're  turning  down  a  chance  to 
be  the  first  to  get  the  profit  in  this,  Frobert  1  " 

"  I  believe  you,"  said  Frobert,  suavely.  "  But 
why  should  we  waste  our  time,  Mr.  Lansing?  I 
have  an  agreement.  I  shall  stick  to  it.  If  you  had 
come  to  me  when  I  was  fighting  Klanger,  six 
months  ago,  or  if  you  had  waited  a  year,  when  I 
shall  be  fighting  him  again  —  well,  I  should  have 
had  a  different  answer  for  you.  But  now  —  no." 

There  was  finality  in  Frobert's  voice;  finality, 
too,  in  the  way  in  which  he  rose  and  moved  toward 
the  door. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Mr.  Lansing,"  he  said.  "  Believe 
me,  I  am  really  sorry.  I  like  to  fight  fair.  And  I 
think  these  people  are  wrong.  I  think  they  will  be 
hurting  themselves  as  well  as  you.  But  —  " 

He   ended  with   a   characteristic   gesture,   his 
hands  spread  out  before  him. 
[299] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Take  my  advice,"  he  said.  "  Go  to  Haz- 
zard." 

"  No!  "  said  Lansing,  "  I'll  be  damned  if  I  do. 
I'll  go  down  first!  " 

And  an  hour  later  he  was  prepared  to  admit  that 
down  he  would  go.  For  not  a  theater  in  all  the 
town  was  open  to  him  and  his  film.  Hazzard  and 
his  allies  had  overlooked  nothing  this  time.  Once 
Lansing  thought  he  had  found  a  way  out.  He  had 
gone  to  the  owner  of  a  small  theater,  a  man  who 
had  had  trouble  with  Klanger  months  before,  and 
had  been  on  the  black  list  ever  since.  His  theater 
was  not  desirable;  it  was  badly  located,  and  it  was 
so  small  that  even  if  it  were  filled  to  capacity,  at 
the  prices  Lansing  could  charge,  the  profit  would 
be  reduced  to  an  insignificant  figure.  But  if  the 
film  could  open  there,  the  fight  for  a  better  theater 
could  go  on. 

But,  after  Lansing  had  made  his  offer,  and  when 
his  man  seemed  to  be  on  the  verge  of  accepting  it, 
the  telephone  rang  out.  Lansing  had  a  premoni- 
tion of  what  was  coming.  He  saw  the  surprised 
delight  in  the  eyes  of  Hayman,  the  owner  of  the 
house  he  hoped  to  get.  And  after  the  receiver  was 
replaced  Hayman  turned  to  Lansing. 
[300] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  That  was  Klanger,"  he  said,  simply.  "  He's 
taken  me  back.  It's  all  off,  Mr.  Lansing.  I  can't 
do  business  with  you." 

Lansing  did  not  waste  his  strength  in  getting 
angry.  Hayman  and  Frobert  were  of  the  same 
type ;  they  made  no  pretences.  Idealism  played  no 
part  in  business,  as  they  saw  it;  it  was  every  man 
for  himself.  And,  indeed,  both  had  had  occasion 
to  discover  the  value  of  that  motto  in  the  past,  and 
their  lessons  had  been  costly. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Lansing 
finally  gave  up  an  effort  that  he  had  known  for 
hours  was  vain.  He  had  gone  through  the  whole 
list  of  theater  owners,  for  he  was  determined 
to  make  it  impossible  for  him  to  reproach  himself 
later  with  the  thought  that  he  had  not  done 
everything  that  could  be  done.  He  came  out 
wearily  into  Broadway  from  the  last  office  building 
he  had  visited,  and  in  the  dusk  he  caromed  into 
Brangwyn. 

"  Hello !  "  said  Sandy.  "  Where  have  you 
been?  "  He  took  a  closer  look,  and  then  gripped 
Lansing's  arm.  "  You  need  a  drink,"  he  said, 
firmly.  "  There's  a  place  just  over  here  where 
they  keep  the  very  thing." 

[301] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Not  tonight,  Sandy,"  said  Lansing.  "  I'm 
afraid  I  couldn't  stand  it." 

"  Been  going  about  without  eating? "  said 
Sandy.  "  Missed  your  lunch?  Thought  so. 
How's  your  bally  movie?  " 

"  Busted !  "  said  Lansing.  "  Busted  higher  than 
a  kite,  Sandy.  They  got  me  !  " 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  said  Brangwyn.  "  What's 
the  matter?  Money?" 

"  Oh,  that's  only  part  of  it,"  said  Lansing.  "  If 
I'd  had  more  than  a  shoestring  for  capital  I  sup- 
pose I  might  hang  on  and  beat  them  yet;  but  I 
might  not." 

"Worth  trying,  isn't  it?"  asked  Brangwyn. 
"Look  here,  Bob,  you're  a  hell  of  a  friend! 
Where  do  I  come  in?  Haven't  I  got  the  right  to 
lend  you  money  if  I  like?  I  won't  stand  for  it! 
You'd  lend  it  to  me  like  a  shot  if  I  needed  it, 
wouldn't  you?  " 

"  No,"  said  Lansing,  "  because  you  wouldn't 
take  it.  It's  no  use,  Sandy.  You're  all  right.  But 
I  won't  drag  you  into  this  game.  It's  too  much  of 
a  gamble." 

"  Well  —  isn't  there  anything  you'll  let  me 
do?"  asked  Brangwyn,  mournfully.  "Good 
[302] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Lord  —  I've  just  made  a  pot  of  money  —  and  you 
won't  let  me  help.  Can't  I  buy  an  interest?  " 

"No  —  let's  forget  it,  Sandy,"  said  Lansing. 
And  then,  to  change  the  subject  rather  than 
because  he  was  interested:  "  You  say  you've  been 
making  money?  I  suppose  you  do  that  every  day, 
but  I  didn't  know  you  ever  knew  about  it  until  they 
brought  you  an  income  tax  return  to  sign." 

"  This  is  different,"  said  Brangwyn,  with  a 
chuckle.  "  I  swung  a  deal  all  by  myself.  Funniest 
thing  I  ever  saw." 

"Why?" 

"  Wait  till  I  tell  you.  Jove  —  that's  why  I'm 
around  here  —  wouldn't  have  run  into  you  except 
for  the  deal.  You  know  that  bit  of  land  I  own  up 
the  street  here  —  built  up  with  a  lot  of  old 
stores?" 

Lansing  nodded,  indifferently. 

u  Well,  I  was  having  lunch  at  the  shack,  as  it 
happened,  and  a  blighter  rang  me  up  and  said  he 
wanted  to  come  to  see  me  on  business  —  wanted 
to  buy  some  land.  I  told  him  to  go  to  the  devil  — 
and  to  Harkness,  my  agent.  But  he  wouldn't. 
Kept  on  ringing,  over  and  over  again  —  said  his 
name  was  Klanger,  and  this  thing  had  to  be  done 

[303] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


direct.  So  I  let  him  come,  finally,  to  get  rid  of 
him." 

"  Abe  Klanger?  "  said  Lansing,  chuckling  in  his 
turn.  "  You'd  have  saved  time  if  you'd  given  in 
at  once,  Sandy!  " 

"  I  know  it  —  now,"  said  Brangwyn,  ruefully. 
"  Bob,  he's  terrible !  He  had  a  taxicab,  and  he 
made  me  come  on  over  here  with  him.  He  wanted 
an  option  on  this  property  here.  And  he  made  me 
so  sore,  finally,  that  I  made  him  pay  five  thousand 
more  than  Harkness  was  holding  it  for!  " 

"  Then  it  was  worth  ten  thousand  more,"  said 
Lansing.  "  But  why  did  he  have  to  deal  with 
you?" 

"  I  don't  know  —  just  wanted  to  be  mysterious, 
I  think.  He  said  he  didn't  want  the  transfer 
recorded  right  away,  or  something,  and  he  knew 
he  was  safe  in  dealing  with  a  gentleman.  He  gave 
me  his  check  for  five  thousand  for  the  option." 

And  suddenly  Lansing  jumped.  Little  thrills 
chased  up  and  down  his  spine.  For  he  saw,  in  that 
moment,  the  significance  of  Brangwyn's  story. 

"  Sandy!  "  he  cried.  "  Did  he  make  you  prom- 
ise to  keep  this  deal  a  secret?  " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  Brangwyn.  "  He  was 
[304] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


too  foxy  for  that.  Oh,  I  saw  through  him,  all 
right.  He  thought  if  he  told  me  not  to  talk,  I'd 
go  and  blab  it  right  away,  but  that  if  he  didn't  I 
might  think  it  wasn't  worth  while.  He  wouldn't 
trust  me." 

"  Oh,  Sandy !  "  said  Lansing,  "  you've  done 
more  for  me  than  all  the  money  you  wanted  to 
lend  me  would  have  done  —  if  I  can  tell  one  man 
this  story." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Brangwyn.  "Go  to  it  I 
I'd  like  to  see  you  shove  a  spoke  in  that  blighter's 
wheel." 

"  I'll  tear  the  whole  wheel  off,  Sandy !  Do  you 
know  that  Klanger's  the  man  who  stands  in  my 
way?  And,  by  Jove,  you've  delivered  him  into  my 
hands !  I've  got  him  on  toast !  Sandy  —  go  and 
have  a  drink  for  me ;  I'm  going  to  be  busy." 

And  he  left  the  astonished  Brangwyn  gaping 
on  the  sidewalk  while  he  dashed  for  the  nearest 
taxicab.  In  ten  minutes  he  was  in  Frobert's  office 
again;  the  news  that  Frobert  had  gone  for  the  day 
did  not  for  a  moment  lower  his  spirits.  He  even 
kept  his  temper  when  he  understood  that  Fro- 
bert's office  force  was  purposely  assuming  igno- 
rance as  to  his  movements  and  guessed  that 

[305] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Frobert  had  anticipated  another  plea  and  deter- 
mined to  avoid  hearing  it. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said.  "  I'm  going  to  look 
around  town  for  Mr.  Frobert.  But  when  he  turns 
up  you  tell  him  I've  got  some  news  for  him  that  he 
ought  to  hear  —  and  that  he  ought  to  hear  in  a 
hurry.  Tell  him  the  whole  situation  has  changed 
since  I  saw  him  this  afternoon." 

But  if  Frobert  got  his  message  he  did  not  take 
it  seriously;  it  was  not  until  nearly  midnight  that 
Lansing,  aided  and  abetted  by  friends  who  formed 
a  cordon  around  the  theater,  succeeded  in  nailing 
his  man. 

"  Well  —  you  see  me,"  said  Frobert,  resignedly. 
"  Come  back  to  my  office." 

Lansing  followed  him  into  the  deserted  office, 
and  Frobert  switched  on  the  light. 

"  You're  going  to  change  your  decision,  Fro- 
bert," said  Lansing.  "  You're  afraid  of  Klan- 
ger  — " 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  Klanger  or  anyone  else," 
said  Frobert.  "  But  —  " 

"  Hold  on !  "  said  Lansing.  "  You  and  I  know 
one  another  of  old,  Frobert.  You're  just  waiting 
for  a  good  chance  to  jump  at  Klanger's  throat  — 
[306] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Klanger  and  his  whole  syndicate,  aren't  you? 
You're  waiting  till  the  time  is  ripe?  " 

Frobert  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  an  expres- 
sive, oriental  gesture. 

"  It  may  be,"  he  said.  "  We  have  had  differ- 
ences before.  I  suppose  we  may  have  them 
again." 

"  But  right  now  you're  observing  a  truce. 
You're  playing  fair  with  one  another.  Neither 
side  is  expanding?  " 

"  That  is  so." 

"  Then  how  do  you  account  for  the  fact  that 
Klanger  holds  an  option  on  the  Brangwyn  prop- 
erty three  blocks  from  here  —  the  only  available 
theater  site  on  Broadway  that's  coming  into  the 
market  in  the  next  fifteen  years?  " 

Frobert  jumped  up  as  if  Lansing  had  shot  him. 
His  face  went  dead  white,  and  his  small,  beady 
eyes  were  glittering. 

"Is  that  true?"  he  cried.     "If  —  " 

"  I've  got  it  from  Mr.  Brangwyn  himself," 
snapped  Lansing.  "  I  suppose  you  know  that  he 
and  I  are  old  friends.  If  Klanger  had  had  sense 
enough  to  ask  Brangwyn  to  keep  it  quiet,  I  couldn't 
tell  you.  But  he  was  so  damned  careful  that  he 

[307] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


wouldn't  even  trust  Brangwyn  and  was  foxy 
enough  not  to  ask  him  to  keep  it  quiet." 

Frobert,  small,  dapper,  raged  up  and  down  the 
office.  He  held  a  fountain  pen  in  his  hand,  and 
suddenly  he  crushed  it,  so  that  the  ink  spurted 
and  covered  his  whole  hand. 

"  And  I  thought  Klanger  would  play  fair!  "  he 
said  at  last.  "Mr.  Lansing  —  you  may  have 
saved  me  from  a  very  bad  beating.  You  shall  have 
your  pick  of  any  empty  theaters  I  control !  As  to 
terms  —  we  shall  not  quarrel.  You  have  done  me 
a  favor,  and  my  worst  enemies  have  never  said  I 
was  not  grateful.  Yes,  you  shall  have  the  Thespis 
—  it's  the  best.  Telephone  now  to  Adelphia  and 
have  copies  of  all  your  paper  sent  over  —  my  own 
people  will  get  it  out.  By  tomorrow  we  will  have 
the  town  covered.  You  shall  open  Monday,  as 
you  planned  —  but  here,  instead  of  in  Adelphia." 


T 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

HERE  was  work  for  all  of  them  who  were 
behind  "  Crandall's  Revenge  "  in  the  last 
days  before  its  production.  Baker  proved  himself 
a  jewel  among  press  agents.  Skillfully  he  allowed 
just  enough  of  the  truth  to  leak  out.  People, 
reading  of  the  sudden  fierce  renewal  of  the 
Klanger-Frobert  feud,  knew  that  it  was  connected 
in  some  way  with  "  Crandall's  Revenge." 

And  then  came  Monday  night.  Over  the 
theater  glittered  the  new  sign,  its  electric  lights 
blazing  out.  Photographs,  hastily  designed 
"  paper,"  advertised  the  film.  Lansing,  accustomed 
as  he  was  to  first  nights,  felt  strange  and  nervous, 
for  so  much  was  absent.  There  had  been  prac- 
tically no  advance  sale ;  many  free  tickets  had  been 
distributed,  of  course,  but  Frobert  had  counseled 
moderation  in  that  respect.  The  dramatic  critics, 
in  the  main,  stayed  away;  they  felt,  perhaps,  that 
it  was  beneath  their  dignity  to  notice  a  moving- 
picture  production.  But  all  the  papers  were  repre- 
sented; the  fact  that  the  picture  was  advertised  as 
a  legitimate  production  would  have  assured  that. 
[309] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


Martyn,  as  limp  as  a  rag,  white,  and  shaking 
with  nervousness,  was  waiting  in  the  dark  and 
empty  house  long  before  the  lights  went  up.  Lan- 
sing himself  was  there  early;  he  and  Martyn 
standing  about,  trying  to  find  topics  of  conversa- 
tion that  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  film,  and  get- 
ting back  to  it,  as  if  drawn  by  a  magnet,  in  spite 
of  every  effort.  One  by  one  other  members  of 
the  cast  came  in.  And  Morgan,  it  seemed,  was 
as  nervous  as  any  of  them. 

"  Rum  go,  this,  what?  "  he  suggested.  "  My 
word  —  haven't  had  the  shakes  so  since  the  first 
time  I  ever  went  on  in  the  'alls.  I  say  —  what  do 
the  blighters  do?  Applaud,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing?  " 

"  Sometimes,"  said  Martyn,  sepulchrally. 

"Oh,  then,  that's  all  right  —  what?"  said 
Morgan.  "  I  wondered  how  we'd  know  whether 
they  liked  it." 

Martyn  and  Lansing  roared;  the  artless  conceit 
of  the  Englishman  removed  some  of  the  strain. 

Mary  Brewster  came  in  smiling,  calmly  confi- 
dent. She  had  only  scorn  for  the  nervousness  of 
Martyn  and  Lansing. 

"  Of  course  it's  going  over!  "  she  said.  "  There 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


isn't  a  chance  for  a  failure !  I  don't  want  anyone 
to  sit  near  me  —  I  want  to  be  able  to  cry,  all  by 
myself,  when  it  looks  as  if  Crandall  was  going  to 
lose!" 

People  came  in  slowly,  but  the  theater,  even  so, 
was  filling  up  more  rapidly  than  is  usual  on  a  first 
night.  The  quality  of  the  audience  was  strange; 
very  few  of  those  who  came  were  in  evening  dress. 
It  was  interested;  it  was  plain,  by  the  novelty  of 
the  idea,  but  there  was  a  sprinkling,  too,  of  real 
movie  fans.  And  it  was  snatches  of  conversation 
that  he  overheard  among  some  of  these  that  first 
brightened  Martyn. 

"  They're  the  ones  we  want  to  get,"  he  told 
Lansing.  "  Even  if  we  are  going  to  a  lot  of  new 
people,  we've  got  to  have  the  old-timers  to  give  us 
our  start  and  get  the  picture  talked  about!  " 

"  Let's  have  a  look  in  the  lobby,"  said  Lansing. 
"  The  house  isn't  half  full  yet." 

But  the  lobby  was  jammed;  a  line  stretched  out 
into  the  street  from  the  box-office  window. 

"  Second  balcony's  full,"  whispered  Frobert. 
"  Place  will  soon  be  packed.  First  time  in  two 
years,  too !  Mr.  Lansing  —  I  think  you  told  me 
the  truth  this  afternoon !  " 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


And  then,  a  few  minutes  later,  the  lights  all  over 
the  house  went  out,  and  a  beam  of  light  shot  down 
and  played  upon  the  great  white  screen.  Five 
minutes  later  a  ripple  of  applause  ran  through  the 
house  at  the  first  entrance  of  Morgan,  as  Crandall; 
at  the  end  of  the  first  reel  there  was  a  real  demon- 
stration, swiftly  checked  as  the  next  began.  And 
before  the  end  there  was  no  longer  any  doubt  as 
to  the  success  of  the  picture.  Spontaneous  ripples 
of  applause  ran  over  the  house,  and  there  was  an 
even,  surer  token  of  success  in  the  enthusiasm  of 
the  crowd  as  it  filed  out. 

"  It'll  run  all  summer!  "  said  Frobert,  solemnly. 
"  I  owe  you  something,  Mr.  Lansing !  You  have 
not  only  put  me  in  the  way  of  making  money,  but 
you  have  also  given  me  a  good  chance  to  get  at 
Klanger." 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  Martyn,  coming  up  to 
them.  "  But  there  are  one  or  two  things  we've  got 
to  do,  Bob.  We'll  have  to  fill  up  the  evening  some- 
how —  it's  too  short  as  it  is.  But  we  can  get  a 
short  feature  somewhere  tomorrow,  that  will  fill 
the  gap  until  we've  had  time  to  make  a  two-reeler 
ourselves.  And  later  we  can  arrange  for  some 
topical  news  service,  maybe.  There's  one  thing 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


sure  —  we  can  have  anything  we  want,  from  any- 
one, after  tonight!  Have  you  seen  any  of  the 
State's-rights  men?" 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Lansing.  "  I'm  not  ready  for 
them  yet.  We've  got  to  get  a  new  deal  from  them, 
Cliff.  I  think  —  I'm  not  sure  about  him  —  but  I 
think  I  can  make  Shelley  see  the  real  possibilities 
in  this  thing.  What  we  want  is  a  new  exchange 
system.  We've  got  to  expand  our  idea,  and  do  it 
quickly.  I  don't  mind  borrowing  money  now  — 
and  my  idea  is  to  start  two  more  big  features  at 
once.  You  can  put  two  men  to  work  on  the  making 
of  the  pictures,  and  keep  an  eye  on  both?  " 

"  I  can  try,"  said  Martyn. 

"  I  want  you  as  a  sort  of  general  director  — 
but  I  don't  believe  you'll  have  time  to  make  many 
more  individual  pictures." 

"  Hold  on  I  "  said  Martyn,  laughing,  "  you're 
going  too  fast  for  me.  I  need  a  little  time  to  get 
used  to  the  idea  that  we've  actually  put  this  one 
over." 

"  Oh !  "  Lansing  brushed  their  whole  achieve- 
ment aside  with  the  exclamation,  "  what's  done 
doesn't  count,  Cliff ;  it's  what  we'll  do  next  we've 
got  to  think  about." 

[313] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Go  on  over  to  the  hotel,"  said  Martyn.  "  I've 
got  one  or  two  people  to  see.  If  we're  really  going 
to  start  up  again  at  once  I  might  as  well  nail  some 
people  that  are  around." 

"  All  right  —  you've  got  a  free  hand,  Cliff." 

He  made  his  way  through  eager  State's-rights 
men,  every  one  of  them  anxious  to  talk  business, 
and  outside  he  met  Hazzard.  Hazzard's  eyes 
were  twinkling;  his  huge  frame  shook  with  mirth. 

"  I'll  forgive  you  for  beating  me,  for  the  crimp 
you  put  in  Howell  and  Cramer  and  that  swine 
Klanger!"  he  roared.  "And  —  you  can  show 
your  film  in  Adelphia  whenever  you  get  ready. 
I've  sent  word." 

"  Haven't  you  got  any  shame?  "  asked  Lansing 
curiously.  But  then  he  laughed.  After  all,  this 
was  Hazzard  —  an  integral  part  of  the  man  he 
had  admired  in  the  beginning,  whose  personality 
it  was  that  had  led  him  into  this  adventure  that 
had  given  him  back  his  self-respect. 

They  shook  hands  as  if  nothing  had  ever  come 
between  them.  And  Lansing  passed  on  wearily, 
but  drawing  in  satisfaction  with  every  breath  of 
the  cool  night  air.  People  were  looking  up,  as 
he  passed  them,  at  the  great  electric  sign  that  pro- 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


claimed  the  new  film.  His  own  name  was  linked 
with  that  of  the  film,  and  he  thought  of  the  day 
when  he  had  seen  people  looking  curiously  at 
the  great  bulk  of  Lansing's  store,  emblem  of  his 
failure,  his  worthlessness,  as  they  looked  now  at 
something  that  symbolized  his  proving  of  his  right 
to  the  name  he  bore. 

So  he  came  to  the  restaurant  where  they  were 
to  celebrate  • —  the  little  group  who  had  helped 
him  to  make  this  success.  That  had  been  Brang- 
wyn's  idea.  Martyn  would  be  there,  and  Baker, 
Mary  Brewster,  Morgan,  Teddy  Lathrop,  Jim 
Blunt,  one  or  two  of  the  principals.  At  the 
thought  of  Mary  Brewster  he  flushed.  And,  curi- 
ously, she  was  the  only  one  who  was  in  the  private 
room  Sandy  had  engaged. 

He  saw  that  she  looked  tired;  as  tired  as  he 
himself  felt.  But  she  brightened  a  little  when  she 
saw  him,  and  came  toward  him  to  greet  him,  with 
both  hands  outstretched. 

"Oh,  I'm  glad!"  she  said.  "You  did  win; 
I  knew  you  would.  And  you'll  be  rich,  and  I'll 
be  famous  —  "  She  made  no  effort  to  free  her 
hands  from  the  firm  grasp  in  which  he  held  them. 

"  You  —  "  he  began.    "  I  don't  believe  I  need 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


to  tell  you  that  I  know  the  part  that  you  and  the 
others  took  —  you  more  than  any  of  them. 
You're  artist  enough  to  have  weighed  all  that, 
and  not  to  be  falsely  modest.  And  —  except  for 
you  we'd  never  even  have  finished  the  picture!  " 

"Don't!"  she  said,  sharply.  "Don't  let's 
talk  of  that  —  " 

"  We've  got  to,"  he  said  grimly.  "I  —  I  wish 
you  had  let  it  all  go  to  smash,  or  that  I'd  been  man 
enough  to  stop  you.  Look  here,  you're  not  going 
through  with  it?  You're  not  going  to  marry  Mor- 
gan? You  promised  just  to  keep  him  in  line?  " 

And  then  she  did  take  her  hands  from  him. 
She  moved  away  from  him  slowly,  and  he  saw  the 
wave  of  color  that  swept  up,  staining  her  neck 
and  her  cheeks. 

"  You've  no  right  to  say  that,"  she  said.  It 
seemed  to  be  hard  for  her  to  speak.  "  You've  no 
right  to  think  that,  even  to  help  you,  I'd  have  —  " 

She  stopped,  and  he  said  nothing.  And  in  a 
moment  she  tried  again. 

"  That  I'd  marry  him  —  "  she  began. 

"  You  haven't!  "  cried  Lansing.  "  You  haven't 
married  him!  Why,  I  —  " 

Confession,  avowal,  pleading,  were  plain,  not 

[3-6] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


in  his  words,  but  in  his  eyes.  He  saw  the  look 
of  understanding  that  came  over  her,  and  checked 
his  swift  step  toward  her,  to  stand,  silenced  by  the 
look  in  her  eyes,  abashed. 

"You!"  she  said,  slowly.  "  Do  you  —  care 
like  that?  I  thought  —  and  then  I  didn't  dare  to 
think  so!  Oh  —  " 

The  color  receded  slowly  from  her  cheeks,  and 
the  depths  of  her  gray  eyes  grew  somber,  and  lines 
of  despair  seemed  to  settle  about  them,  and  in  the 
corners  of  her  mouth. 

"Oh!"  she  cried.  "Oh  — my  dear!  I'd 
stopped  hoping  that  you'd  ever  care !  You  didn't 
then  —  oh,  you  didn't !  If  you  had  —  I  suppose 
I  couldn't  have  done  it!  But  I  couldn't  bear  to 
see  everything  go  —  to  know  that  you'd  lost  when 
I  could  have  saved  it  all  for  you.  And  now?  I 
must  go  through  with  it.  You  know  that.  He 
kept  his  word  —  I  can't  break  mine." 

It  was  the  utter  frankness  of  her  revelation  that 
tortured  Lansing  most.  He  wanted  to  take  her  in 
his  arms,  and  hold  her  so,  defying  her  conscience, 
Morgan,  everything  that  stood  between  them. 
But  he  knew  that  she  would  be  too  strong  for  him. 
He  knew  that  she  meant  to  pay,  to  keep  her  prom- 
[317] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


ise.  And  then,  while  they  still  stood  staring  at  one 
another,  and  just  as  the  strain  was  growing  intol- 
erable, Brangwyn  came  in,  chuckling  delightedly. 

u  Hello,  you  two!  "  he  said.  "  I  say  —  this  is 
some  night.  You  ought  to  hear  the  way  they're 
talking  about  you,  Miss  Brewster.  Ears  burning? 
Shouldn't  wonder !  But  poor  old  Morgan  —  your 
little  English  friend  is  up  against  it  for  fair." 

"What's  the  matter  with  him?"  asked  Lan- 
sing. He  was  surprised  at  the  indifferent  sound 
of  his  own  voice. 

"  Oh,  nothing  much,"  said  Sandy;  "  friend  wife 
hears  he's  making  a  pot  of  money  and  turns  up  to 
get  her  share  —  that's  all." 

"  Morgan's  wife?  "  cried  Lansing.  Exultation 
shook  his  voice  now.  He  looked  at  Mary  Brew- 
ster, and  saw  that  the  color  had  flooded  her  cheeks 
again. 

"Wife!"  insisted  Sandy.  "Bad  thing  for  a 
matinee  idol,  a  wife  is.  So  he  left  her  behind  him 
in  dear  old  Lunnon,  don't  you  know.  She  didn't 
mind  that  so  much.  But  it  seems  he  wrote  her  a 
while  ago  that  it  was  all  off  —  that  he  was  going 
to  get  a  divorce  over  here  and  pass  her  up.  So 
she  came  over  to  spank  him  and  show  him  just 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


where  he  got  off.  She  landed  today,  chased  him 
all  over  the  shop,  and  finally  heard  about  this 
party.  Heard  I  was  giving  it  and  pretty  nearly 
pulled  my  hair  out.  Then  he  came  along,  and 
Martyn's  with  them  now,  trying  to  get  them 
calmed  down.  But  I  guess  we'll  have  to  celebrate 
without  him." 

"  Is  this  straight,  Sandy?  "  asked  Lansing.  "  It 
isn't  your  idea  of  a  joke?  " 

"  You  go  and  ask  Morgan  if  it's  a  joke,"  said 
Sandy,  indignantly.  "  She  scared  the  truth  out  of 
him.  He  wanted  to  get  hitched  up  with  some 
chicken  he  met  here.  Explained  that  he'd  heard 
you  could  stop  off  at  Reno  and  get  a  divorce  be- 
tween trains.  He's  a  great  actor,  maybe  —  but 
that  lets  him  out." 

And  then  Mary  Brewster  laughed,  and  Sandy 
looked  at  her  gratefully,  because  it  had  seemed  to 
him  that  an  unusually  good  joke  was  falling  very 
flat,  and  that  this  was  a  reflection  on  his  manner 
of  telling  it.  But  Lansing  caught  the  hysterical 
note  in  her  laughter,  and  he  took  Sandy,  gently, 
but  very  firmly,  by  the  shoulders,  and  pushed  him 
through  the  door. 

"  Sandy  —  go    away    from    here !  "    he    said. 

[319] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


"  Get  the  others  —  but  don't  come  in  or  let  any- 
one else  come  in,  for  ten  minutes." 

He  shut  the  door  on  Sandy's  protest.  And  then 
he  turned  toward  Mary.  She  had  dropped  into 
a  chair,  and  he  couldn't  see  her  face,  because  it 
was  buried  in  her  hands.  He  reached  her  in  two 
strides  and  caught  her  up  in  his  arms.  She  was 
crying,  as  he  had  been  afraid  she  was,  but  she 
was  laughing,  too.  And  she  clung  to  him  so  that 
for  a  moment  her  face  was  still  hidden.  And 
then,  when  he  had  forced  her  back,  so  that  he 
could  see  her  eyes,  he  was  awed  by  the  look  that 
was  in  them. 

"  Oh !  "  she  said.  "  Oh,  my  dear  —  I  can  have 
you,  after  all !  " 

There  was  so  little  time  —  and  they  had  so 
much  to  tell  one  another;  but  they  could  laugh  at 
that.  And  when  Sandy  came  back,  and  Martyn, 
and  all  the  rest,  except  Morgan,  trooped  in  with 
him,  Lansing  and  Mary  were  standing,  most  de- 
corously apart,  the  width  of  the  room  between 
them.  Mary's  cheeks  were  flushed,  and  Lansing 
was  biting  his  lips,  but  no  one  thought  that 
strange.  And  later,  after  Sandy  had,  ponderously, 
and  with  a  quite  extraordinary  gathering  of  all 
[320] 


BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 


the  stock  phrases  of  the  last  five  years,  proposed 
a  toast  to  the  great  film  and  the  many  that  were 
to  follow  it,  Lansing  rose  to  answer.  And  he  pro- 
posed the  health  of  those  who  had  done  the  work, 
as  he  put  it. 

"  I  hope  you'll  all  be  in  films  that  will  put  this 
one  to  the  blush,"  he  said;  "  but  I'm  afraid  Cliff 
Martyn  won't  forgive  me  very  easily,  because  I'm 
going  to  rob  him  of  his  biggest  asset!  "  He  raised 
his  glass  to  Mary,  and  she  blushed  again,  so  that 
there  was  no  need  at  all  for  Lansing  to  tell  them 
his  great  news ! 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    000038039     4 


